Hallelujah
by It'sTimeToDance
Summary: Some wounds can't heal. Implied rape. FINALLY FINISHED!
1. Now I've heard they're was a secret cord

**Chapter One**

"_Breathe"_

I leaned against the wall, wrapping my arms around my stomach and sliding down into the damp concrete. I let the hot tears roll down my cheek, dripping down my arms in red streams. I felt disgusting, like I had rolled around in the mucky water I was sitting in. I felt rain drops pour down my neck. Choked sobs shook my entire body, rattling my bones like a hammer. My cell phone hummed in my pocket, like it had only an hour ago. It slipped and fell, splashing in the muddy rain water. My jeans just barely hung on my hips.

Edward was in Italy. He said he had business with the Valturi. Alice and Carlisle went with him. It would take them hours to get here, if Alice had seen. I had no doubt she had.

I shivered, my torn sleeve slipping down my shoulder. My head spun, and my bones throbbed. I drifted, rain drops running through my hair and the vibration of my phone humming me to sleep.

* * *

Waking up I noticed my shredded clothes were soaked, and the faint, barely visible glow of dawn peeking through the corner of the alley. I lifted my eyes. I couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't here. Probably disgusted. Probably so disgusted he didn't even have a mind to come back. I looked down. My phone was still there, lying on the pavement in a puddle of rain water. It beeped with messages, messages I had no interest in. I wanted to crawl home. Charlie would ask what happened. He was the police chief. He would want to know. He would scope Washington state until he found him. I wouldn't tell. I would wash it all away, all the dirt, all the blood, all the filth, until my skin was raw. I would act like it never happened.

But it did. And things would never be the same.

"Edward..." I heard myself moan, shifting against the wall. My head throbbed, my stomach stabbing me with a pain close to unbearable.

I hoisted myself up the wall, every movement like swallowing glass. I had to find my truck. Could I stay awake long enough to even drive? Probably not.

I looked at the phone. They couldn't see me like this. I wouldn't let them.

Still, for some reason, I flipped open the phone and found the number.

"Hello?"

"Jake..." I whispered.

"Bella? You okay?"

I swallowed, biting back a sob. Everything was spinning again. I slide back down the wall.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Can you come get me?"

"...Yeah, sure. Where are you."

"Port Angeles." I whispered, spots moving towards the center of my vision.

Pause. "Are you sure your okay?"

"I'm fine," I insisted, gritting my teeth with a stab of pain. "Please just come."

"Wait, what street--"

The phone fell from my hands with a clatter. My head leaned back against the wall. I drifted.


	2. that David plays and it pleased the Lord

I ran my shaking hands up and down my arms, my teeth chattering and my hair dripping down my back. My cell phone had long ago stopping ringing, and bruises are slowly growing darker against my pale skin. It would be hard to cover up.

* * *

Dawn had started to make it's way into the sky, and early starters were walking down the street, completely oblivious to the bleeding girl in the alley. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Jake was probably looking for me. He might have even called Sam, too, and the rest of the pack. I suppose I should have tried to move, get out of the alley, but I didn't. I let my head spin, letting myself fall in and out of consciousness. Shock, I remember Edward saying not so long ago. It wasn't that far from here. He had told me to eat. I couldn't hold anything down. I couldn't move. I could only sit there curled up in a pathetic ball and pray for it to end.

* * *

Jacob came, his old rabbit rattling in front of the alley. Sam was with him. I hadn't paid much notice to them. Everything was in a haze, a thick fog that gave no signs of clearing.

"Oh God, what happened to you?" was all that made it through the fog, a whisper, barely distinguishable between the voices humming in my head. All monotones, names without faces, emotionless reminders of what my life had become.

I let fevered arms lift me from the pavement and carry me to the car. I peered through my lashes at my phone sitting in the puddle, beeping with unchecked messages. I let myself sink into the fog, Jacob's voice lulling me away.

* * *

A/N um, quick, I know. Probably won't be a three shot. Oh well. Get over it, I'm tired


	3. but you don't really care for music

**Chapter Three**

"_Breathe"_

I dreamed of an angel's voice, whispering in my ear. So close I could feel him, his cold skin, his soft hair. I reached toward him, his perfect face becoming clearer. I was inches from him, so close. He was smiling, the crooked grin that made my heart skip a beat, a picture frozen in time, a snapshot. Then, so fast I had no time to register why, his face fell, contorted with disgust. His golden eyes sunk, darkness swallowing them like a black hole. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Menacing. Dangerous. Hateful.

Tears fell down my cheeks. There was only one time, one day, when he had looked at me with such cold hatred. That first day. In biology. When he had wanted to kill me.

Just as quickly, he began to fade, becoming fainter and fainter until he was gone. I heard myself scream for him, begging him to come back. He didn't. And I was left with that last image of him, his disgusted face. I screamed again. Tears poured down my face, and I found myself apologizing, to who I wasn't sure, again and again between sobs, until another voice made it through the walls;

"_It's okay, Bells. Your fine, every thing's okay._"

My breath hitched in her throat, tears stopping mid stream.

I peeled my eyes open, barely. I peered through my lashes. I saw the ceiling of Jacob's old rabbit, and the back of Sam Uley's head at the driver's side. We were moving, I could tell. I saw the tops of cliffs passing through the windows, street signs and the heads of joggers. I saw birds pass through the sky, land on trees, collecting food. Going on like normal. Life was the same for them. For everyone. The joggers and the birds, there life was the same as yesterday. No defining moment had happened. No disaster. No tragedy. Everything was normal. Life went on for the rest of the world. No one cared about the poor crying girl in the old Rabbit driving toward what was bound to be more chaos and disappointment and shame.

No one.

We hit a road bump. I bumped along with it. My stomach was on fire. It rattled inside me like beads in a bowl. Sharp beads.

I gasped. My arms wrapped around my stomach, as thought trying to protect it from the pain. I felt warm hands on my head. I gasped again, snapping into a sitting position so fast I almost hit my head on the ceiling. I regretted it when an invisible knife pierced my stomach. I doubled over, or as much as possible while in a car.

"Whoa, hey!" he said. I felt my eyes begin to burn with tears again, whether completely from the pain I wasn't sure.

"I want to go home." I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady. Unsuccessfully.

He looked taken aback, and I saw Sam looking from the rear view mirror.

"Bella..." he started. He stopped midway, then started again, "Just calm down. We'll take you to the hospital--"

"No!" I hissed, the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. A sharp pain stabbed it's way to my temple, and all I wanted to was crawl in a hole and never come out again, "No." I said again, harder. Firmer. More firm then I felt.

"There not going to make you stay over night, Bells. We just want to get you checked out." he said patiently, like he thought he was talking to a four year old. I ground my teeth together and looked at him sharply. Through clenched teeth, my voice shaking with tears I refused to let go, I said, "No. I'm fine. I just want to go home."

He looked at me sideways, like he was looking at a stranger. We hit another bump, and I grimaced.

He shook his head, "We're going to the hospital."

"No!" I was begging now, blinking back tears, "I'm fine. Some guy just pushed me against a wall and took some money. _I'm fine!" _Not a lie. The ten dollars I had in my pocket had disappeared.

Then he did something that surprised me. His arm whipped at an inhuman speed, grabbed my wrist, and held my arm in front of my face, giving me a full view of the deep purple spots, that only seemed to have gotten darker. He shook it in front of me like a rag doll, frustration overpowering any calmness he had had, "You got _this _from getting pushed up against a wall?"

I shook my head and used all of my weight to push my back against the door, snapping my arm from his iron grip. As it flung back, it smacked into the window with a _thud. _I gasped and held it to my chest, the heat rising in my face. "I'm fine." I said, more to myself then him.

He looked at me skeptically, his eyes going from my eye's, to Sam's in the rear view mirror. I was shaking, my damp clothes sticking relentlessly to my skin.

"Fine." he finally said. I blinked.

"But, I'm going to call Charlie and tell him what happened," he paused, "will Cullen be there?" he added begrudgingly, like his name was acid on his tongue.

"He's in Italy with his family." I said faintly, my stomach churning at the thought of him.

He paused again, "Maybe I should stay with you then, until Charlie comes home, at least."

I shook my head so hard I thought my brain broke through my skull, "No, I'll be fine."

He looked me up and down again, and sighed, "Alright, but if you have any problems," he looked at me, a firm set in his eyes, "just call me and I'll come right over."

There was something his his face, in his eyes, that made me look up at him. Something in his expression...like he knew something I didn't.

I nodded, and turned towards the window. I guess while we were arguing, Sam had already started towards my house, because we were a little more then a block away. The rest of the ride was silent. When he pulled up in the driveway, i was relieved to see Charlie's cruiser wasn't there. I scooted from the back seat, and Jacob followed. Hew walked me to the door. I turned to him and smiled weakly, discreetly leaning against the frame so I would collapse on the porch, "Thanks." I said quickly, turning around and fumbling with my key, which miraculously managed to stay in my pocket. I felt his hand on my shoulder, warm and strong. I turned to him. He looked at me with the same look as before, a worried, knowing spark in his dark brown eyes, "Remember," he said, "all you have to do is call."

I nodded absently, and slipped through the door before he could say anything else, slamming it behind me. I waited until I heard the car pull out from the drive until I shuffled up the stairs. I heard the house phone beep with messages. I didn't check them. I knew who they were from. It was too late to do any good.

I got to my room and fell on the bed, not bothering to take off my wet clothes, and cried. I cried and cried and cried until the edges of my vision went fuzzy, and I fell into it with open arms.

* * *


	4. do you?

**Chapter Four**

_If only you could see the potential_

_The potential of you and me._

_It's like a book elegantly bound but,_

_in a language that you can't read._

_You gotta spend some time, love._

_You gotta spend some time, with me._

_And I know that you'll find, love._

_I will posses your heart._

_-"_I Will Posses Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie

* * *

I didn't dream.

I woke as fast as I slept, so quickly I hardly registered it at all. When I opened my eyes what seemed like moments after shutting them, I had thought I was dreaming. But I saw no one. Not Edward, not Alice, not Jacob, not even Charlie. Just my bedroom, as it had always been. The rocking chair sitting still in the far corner, staring at me, almost mocking me, reminding me of what wasn't here. My computer sat, taking up more space then it was worth, right where it always was.

I shut my eyes, then opened them again. Nothing changed. I waited for something to happen. It didn't. A quick, sharp jab of pain acted as a harsh reminder that I was, in fact, wide awake. And alone.

I moaned softly, and looked at the clock hanging loosely above the door. Five-thirty. I had slept for an hour. I had lied in an alley all night. My clothes were wet. There was blood on my jeans. Edward was gone. It all crashed down on me like a tremendous weight, crushing me like a twig.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and I curled in a ball under the covers and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering and sobbing.

The phone rang. I turned my head and saw it, sitting on the nightstand, glowing red.

_Edward Cullen_

I reached for the phone, and answered with a muttered, "Hello?"

"Bella? Bella?"

"Edward." she sighed, more for her benefit then anything. Hearing his voice, no matter how worried, never ceased at calming her.

"Bella? Are you alright? Alice had a vision--"

"I'm fine." I said curtly, my throat closing again. I blinked back tears.

"No, your not. She saw you pinned up against a wall--"

"A man pushed me in an alley and took my money. I'm fine." I knew I sounded cold, but it was the only way her voice didn't quiver.

"Why didn't you answer you phone?"

"I lost it."

He paused. For a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was determined, "I'm coming over."

I felt bile rise in my throat, burning it like acid. I couldn't face him. Not after that. I couldn't.

"Aren't you in Italy?" she said, trying not to sound like she was on the verge of tears. She failed.

"I'm at the airport. I'll be there in ten minutes." My heart ached again. He had flown from Italy, half way across the world, for me.

I didn't say anything.

"Bella?"

"I'm here."

"Are you sure your alright." he said. I remembered Jacob, saying those exact words.

"Yes." and I hung up.

I tossed the phone weakly on the floor, turned around, pulled the blanket over me, and fell asleep, because sleep had always been more kind to me then the light.

My stomach lurched. My head buzzed, debating whether to pick it up. He had probably called a thousand times already. I wanted to let it ring, to just forget it all and crawl into myself. I really did.

* * *

A/N Mkay. Edward's a'comin' in the next chapter. I'm tired, and it's like 4 in the morning.


	5. Well, it goes like this

**Chapter Five**

_"Love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold_

_And It's a broken_

_Hallelujah"_

* * *

I heard the sounds of engines accelerating, screeching to a halt beside the house. I thought he would come through the window, but I heard the door swing open from downstairs. I barely had time to open my eye, the other swollen shut, before Alice and Edward are in the room.

"Bella."

I looked at him warily, a strange indifference replacing the usual anxious warmth I felt when I usually saw him. He was staring at me intently, inches from the bed and brushing hair from my face. I flinched back.

"Bella," he said again, more as if to convince himself. He drew his hand back, only slightly.

There was a long silence, him watching me with pained eyes, trailing over my face. He brought his hand back, tracing it over a soar spot on my cheek. I let him. I stared at the wall behind him. I couldn't bear to look at him. Every time I did, I saw that wretched, repulsed face.

"Bella," Said Alice finally. "I had a vision, you were pinned up against a wall, there was a man...I tried to call you, but--"

"I lost my phone." I said absently.

Without looking, I could see the skeptical look on both faces.

"Bella."

I kept my eyes down.

"Bella." he said again. I didn't look at him.

"Bella." he said, more forcefully. He gently pulled my chin up, forcing me to look at his lovely face. His eyes were so full of terrible guilt I thought I would cry. They bore into me until it felt like they were burning holes in my face.

"What happened?" he whispered. The question was simple, a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. It was the answer. The awful truth that would destroy everything, break it into so many pieces there would be no hopes of putting it back together.

I looked back at him with dead eyes, glazed and unfocused. I shook my head and pulled away, setting my head back on the pillow.

Nobody said anything, for so long I wondered if the two had left. The phone rang.

I saw Edwards hand pick it up.

"Hello?" he said quietly. His voice dropped into a growl, "What do you want?"

He listened for a moment, "Yes she did...No..."

He didn't say anything, and I could hear the faint buzz of another voice on the other end. Edward mumbled a few things that I didn't try to hear, until finally he said a quick, "Fine" and hung up.

I wanted ask who it was, but I didn't. My throat was closed, and I knew that if I even so much as opened my mouth, the tears would fall.

He began mumbling to Alice, so quietly I wouldn't be able to hear if I was listening.

"...Black...Border..." he said, before I felt his cool hands on my cheek. "I have to go." he said to me.

I nodded, a weak movement of my head that I doubted he even noticed. I felt his lips on my forehead, sending chills down my spine, "Alice will stay here with you, and Charlie's going to be home soon," he said, "I love you."

I nodded again. I should have told him I loved him to. I should have told him not to go.

_You should have done a lot of things. _A cold, harsh voice whispered in my head.

He muttered something to Alice, and he was gone, and I couldn't help but wonder that he wasn't coming back. I began to cry, thinking of his disgusted face and the ache in my body, with a helpless Alice staring at me with sorrowful eyes.

* * *

A/N OMG I re-read this and I'm kind of making Bella a little out of Charactor. Or not. I don't really know what she would do in this situation. Oh well, if enough people hate it I'll re do it. Sorry it's short, but I find it impossible to write alot at one time.

Ehhhhhhhhh I really kind of hate this chhhhhaaaaapppptttteeeeerrrr


	6. the fourth

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**I am so fucking lost on this one, so if someone wants to give me some help, or just like adopt it, let me know.**

**Thanks.**

**Sorry I suck noodles.**


	7. the fifth

Alice is on the phone, I think, mumbling something on the phone, quick and quiet. Quieter then she normally would. She looks at me staring at her, says something into the phone, hangs up. She gives me an uncomfortable looking smile, like she's forcing her muscles to comply. She ask me how I feel. I shrug under the covers, lowering my eyes onto the floral pattern sheets I never liked.

She says Charlie came home, and he was worried, that Jacob called him. She says that she told him I was fine, that I just needed sleep. I don't say anything.

A gentle throb pulses on my eye, my chin, my ribs. It's hardly noticible, but it's there. I think I sighed, or coughed, or something.

She looks at me, Alive, and says, "I have to go. Charlie's here, if you need him. Edward will be here soon, and you can just call me if there's something wrong. Do you need anything?"

I don't say anything, just shake my head, letting it dip down into the pillow, and I close my eyes, and I hear her pause, hear her walk to the door, hear her shut it. Then, I don't hear anything, and I don't realize it's because I fell asleep.

--

Edward walks across the field with his hands in his pockets, the biting wind having no effect on his already icy skin, and his hair blows around like string glued to a rock. He spots him, Jacob, walking too, from the other side. He looks tired, but not cold. Werewolves don't get cold.

Edward stops at the invisible border, and Jacob does the same. They both look at each other, with the same purpose of mind, the same reason for dragging themselves out here, but neither want to be the first to speak.

Jacob's will proves to be less resiliant, "How's Bella doing?"

Edward bits the inside of his mouth, "I don't know," he says, shaking his head, "she won't talk. Not a word."

Jacob looks up at the grey sky, shifting on his heels.

Edward, to be honest, did not, _does _not, care for Jacob Black. Partly because of the natural repellent that clung to him like a second skin, partly because of his attraction to Bella, and partly because the mutt knew how to get to him, how to make him want to tear his eyes out. The only thing he could force himself to tolerate Jacob was her, and only her.

"How much do you know?" Edward asked.

Jacob squinted, avoiding his eyes, "Not alot."

"What is it you _do _know?"

Jacob paused a beat, staring down at his scuffed up boots, the stiff grass, "She said she was mugged."

Edward glared at him, for no reason he could think of other then the sake of glaring, "That's it?"

Jacob nods, "That's what she said."

"And you don't believe her." It was a statement, not a question.

He shakes his head, "No."

Edward runs his hand through his hair, the grey clouds growing larger above him.

"Niether do I."

**A/N Yeah, pointless, I know. **


	8. the minor fall,

**A/N Some kid asked if I can have like, a flashback, or something, so.**

_I was cold, I think. Really, really cold. Like I'd dove into a bucket of ice. The wind made a sound, not a whistle, not a howl, not any of the shit they use in books. Just a harsh, slashing noise that reminded me of some B horror movie, an obvious build-up to something everybody but you sees coming. It sent my hair whipping around my cheeks, made my nose stiff, my ears sting to the point where I didn't notice the surprisingly obivous clacking of cheap leather boots behind me, or next to me, or in front of me. Now that I look back, they---the guys, I assume they were--all but screamed in my face. And I, like the fucking retard that I am, completly ignored for God knows why._

_I heard something, guys laughing at nothing, the smell of smoke and beer. Someone, and I'm still not sure who, said something in a slurred drawl that I couldn't understand. I kept walking._

_They kept going on like that, and I made out a few nonsensicle calls, and eventually the ball of dread tightened in my gut, and I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run._

_I'm not sure what went on, exactly. A flash of blue and yellow danced across my vision, and I could barely gasp as I hit the ground. Shock, for a moment, was all I could react to, all I thought about. Hands started grabbing me, my legs, my arms, my hair. I remember screaming, but it might have come out as a weak croak. I thrashed around, but the hands pinned me down, wrapping around my wrist and dragging me across the blacktop. _

_My head hit something, maybe the corner of one of the buildings. I opened my eyes long enough to see that there were only three guys, barely older then me, their faces twisted in some kind of sick, twisted amusment. I remember closing my eyes again._

_Bang_

_Bang_

_The back of my skull fell in on itself as I was pushed into the cement. I swung my legs up, then down, side to side. I hit something, a leg, and one of the guys yelped. They were yelling now, at me, at each other. More hands came, pushing my knee against the ground. They pushed me again, and the breath was knocked out of my lungs. I used it to gradually slide up the wall, get my footing. I hit my head again, and a fist sank into my stomach. Something might have cracked, but I don't remember._

_I swung my fist around blindly, my knuckles smacking against someone's face. Fingers curled around my elbow and pinned both arms above my head. My cheek was pushed against the wall. _

_Everything swam around in an agonizingly slow blur. My voice was caught in my throat, and I didn't scream when a glass broke, or when the voices became so loud I think my ears popped. I did, however, when the hands started fumbling with my jeans. My head was bashed against the wall, and it was dark. I think I was grateful for it._

_--_

**That's all your getting.**


	9. and the major lift

Edward climbed through the window, past the veiling curtains and onto the carpeted floor in one fluid, noiseless motion. The room was, as usual, silent, the only visible light shining around the corners of the window, the almost sun that reminded every sorry high school student about whatever test they didn't study for or assignment they hadn't done.

Bella lay in a thin lump underneath the covers, almost drowning in the dark shadow that engulfed the entire room. He could tell, by her breathing, that she was awake. Barely, but awake.

She didn't say anything as Edward stood at the foot of the bed, or when he said her name.

"Bella?" he asked again. He squatted down, so he could see her face.

Her eyes--glazed, unfocused--were circled with red pools, light purple, getting deeper, and he could smell the blood rushing towards the skin with no opening to escape. They didn't seem to react to Edwards face, or anything else, for that matter. Her eyes looked as though they should have been crying, but they didn't. They were frozen. They were _dead._

When she did speak, it was soft, yet monotonous. Like she were talking to a stranger.

"What time is it."

Edward didn't move, didn't say anything, her tone like an icy dagger to whatever had become of his heart.

He looked at the alarm clock, sitting on the dresser, "Six."

She shifted positions, listlessly staring at the ceiling, "I have to get ready for school."

Edward, out of nothing but desperation, whispered, "Maybe you should stay home today?"

She shook her head, hoisting herself into a sitting position. Her shirt shifted at the movement, revealing a dark purple splotch of skin weaving around her shoulder, like a desolate snake. She saw her face, how it twisted, so slightly, as though she were holding it back. It evened as quickly, flattening back into a sorrowfully expressionless face that somehow screamed something else.

Emptiness resumed.

**A/N Filler, I know. Get over it.**


	10. The baffled king composing hallelujah

**Breath**

**Chapter Nueve**

_So many  
Bright lights, they cast a shadow  
But can I speak?  
Well is it hard understanding  
I'm incomplete  
A life that's so demanding  
I get so weak  
A love that's so demanding  
I can't speak_

_-_"Famous Last Words", My Chemical Romance

I stood in front of the mirror, my eyes unfocused long ago, and I could almost hear Edward's unnecessary breathing outside the door, waiting. For what? What did he expect to happen?

My reflection, I saw, was something similar to a disfigured mountain troll, with half of it swollen, purple, the other half so pale it could have been a sheet of paper with eyes drawn on it. A scrape, red and angry, stretched flat across my cheek. Not a cut, though, no opening, just a disdurbance on the otherwise smooth skin.

I ruffled my hair lightly, catching a glimse of dried, browning red that had yet to be washed. My hair itself was a whole seperate nightmare that I didn't care to think about.

I, without taking my eyes off the reflection, flushed the toilet three times before fumbling with the doorknob and shoving it open with more force then I intended. Edward, of course, was like a brick wall blocking any exit available, making me crash into his chest on the quickened stride. I found myself holding back a glare.

"I _can _go to the bathroom without supervision, you know." I snapped halfheartidly, shrugging him off.

I could feel it without looking at his face. Betrayel, some shock, some pity, some regret. Worry, concern. No anger, though. I told myself it would come soon, a matter of time before it set in, before he realized.

Which was why, in these underlying circumstances, even with two vampires and a police officer breathing down my neck without knowing why, I had never in my entire life felt so fucking _alone_.

**-x-**

"Where're you going?" he asked, as I jammed my shit into the backpack.

"School." I said. A ball of what could only be guilt expanded at my throat when I looked at him. Some disgust, maybe. That feeling you get when you stole money from your mother, then have to watch her tear the house apart looking for it.

I cringed at his deflated tone, "Maybe you should...stay home today."

"I have a test." I said, swinging the backback across my shoulders--wincing, despite myself--and walking to the door, inot the hallway. He followed.

"Take it tomorrow." he reasoned.

"I'll take it today."

"I'll drive you." he said.

"I can drive myself." Oh God, I was going to cry.

"Bella..."

I looked at the window, with the curtain draped over it, and with dismay---or maybe relief?---I saw it. The yellow rays of light peering in through the veil, like poison to the invinsible.

I took the corner and lifted it, showing him the full extent of the glare. It cast a shadow of tiny diamonds across his face, his hands, glittering like a thousand jewels, but somehow not as wonderful. Bitter, cold and empty. Fake diamonds.

I could almost hear his teeth grindng against each other in defeat.

I tightened the strap in my hands and turned the door knob, muttering, "See you after school."

**A/N Get to stay home today!!!!**

**WHOOT!**

**Promise something will happen in the next chapter.**


	11. Hallelujah, Hallelujah

**A/N I made a resolution to finish all my stories, no matter how abruptly. This one is first on the list.**

**Disclaimer: All charactors you see belong to Stephanie Meyer.**

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Can't you see that your smothering me_

_Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control_

_Cause everything you wanted me to be_

_Has fallen apart right in front of you_

-"Numb", Linkin Park

Breathe

Chapter Ten

School went by like an especially boring health movie. Slow, sluggish, finally fading into the worst kind of blur that you just couldn't ignore, no matter how much you want it to. My stomach throbbed as though someone were playing baseball in my intestines. Classes were brutal, stretching on for hours, demanding something from me. Answers, homework, input, worksheets. By the time the lunch bell rang, I had decided I would kill myself. By the time lunch ended, I'd decided to stick it out a bit longer and see how it goes. By the last class of the day, I'd come up with numerous murder tactics involving Mike Newton's head and a spike-laden plunger.

In biology, I wasn't sure whether or not the relief I felt at Edward's empty seat was justified. On a sunny day, while every one rejoiced as though it were a religious experience, I was down-ridden, gloomy. Not that today was different. Different reasons, maybe, but not different.

Of course, I'd received more then necessary questions as to my whereabouts, why I didn't answer my phone, what happened to my face. Angela seemed to be the only one in Fork's High School who still knew the meaning of personel space, asking once and dropping it just as quickly.

I spent the time in between classes avoiding the usual body-bumps and shoves that came with the pre-bell rush. Despite my best efforts, moments of panic, fear even, surged through my veins everytime someone's shoulder checked me into the wall or a locker, and I was sure I was losing it.

At the last bell, I paced down the hall, to the door, and onto the back football fields in record time, turning the corner of the school, towards the parking lot, my keys tight in my fist.

Halfway to my truck, a car skidded to a halt in front of my, blocking my way to freedom in such a way I could have cheerfully ripped the owner's arm to shreds with my bare teeth.

It was a sports car, with heavily tinted windows and a glintng exterior that almost sparkled beneath the warm afternoon sun, out of place among the old Fords and Sadans, and I knew there was one family in the East coast that could afford a car like it.

The windows rolled down only inches, revealing the top of someone's head, covered by a grey hood and thick designer sunglasses.

"Get in the car." the owner said, and I felt myself sigh in exasperation.

"Don't be so dramatic, Emmett."

I could hear the grin in his voice as he rolled the window farther down, keeping his head ducked to avoid the glare of the sun, "Edward's orders."

"Since when do you listen to Edward?" I glanced over the car.

"Since now?" he offered, flashing an idiotic grin that only dampened my mood.

"I can drive myself."

"You look like you could use a break."

I tried to walk around the car, stopping short as he backed up, once again blocking my way. I glared at him.

"Come on, Bells," he said, opening the window farther, "he's just worried."

"I can take care of myself, Emmett." I tried walking it again, this time by the front. He glided in front of me once more, inches from my feet.

"Bella," he said, in all seriousness, "if you don't get in this car--_right now_--so help me I will tear off my shirt and rip that tree out of the ground until the Volturri come for me," he raised his eyebrows, "and then you'll have _Rosalie _to worry about--"

"Oh my God, _fine_, Emmett." I said, going across the back and into the front seat.

**-x-**

It wasn't until my house passed that I took notice of whatever it was I was doing.

"You missed my house," I said.

"Yep." said Emmett, lazily yanking at the wheel as we reached a corner.

"So," I started, my hands tightening around the stiff, almost new seatbelt, "can I assume that was a mistake?"

He twitched his shoulders in a shrug, his eyes never leaving the road. We were tipping 180. "If you want."

I gaped, "_Emmett!"_

He made a face, somewhere between apolagetic and amused, "Edward's orders."

"_Your ten times his size!" _I shrieked, my stomach twisting under my skin.

"I know," he smirked, "but it's fun to see you mad."

The Cullen's home was in sight. I wrapped my wrist around his forearm in a silent plea, "Emmet, please."

His face dropped as the last of his amusment faded, his eyes furrowing, "Since when do you not want to see Edward, anyway?"

I didn't answer.

A silence, thick and uncomfortable, followed, before he spoke again;

"Did something happen, Bella?"

"No." Too quick, too insistent.

"Because you can tell me, or Alice--"

"Please take me home, Emmett." I stopped him.

"Bella--"

"_Please._" I bit my lip, "Just..._please._"

He paused, "You can't avoid him for no reason."

"Watch me." My voice was strange, cold and distant and uncaring, to my own ears. It shocked Emmett. It shocked me. I found myself not caring either way.

Without a word, he switched lanes.

As he drove, deeper into Forks, closer to my house, he said, "It's supposed to rain tomarrow."

I knew he did it on purpose, but I didn't look at him. They'd all find out eventually. They'd all hate me eventuall, and they'd wonder why they'd bothered, and I knew it would be better that way. Them not caring.

**A/N Aw, man that was bad. I rushed through it. I ahd another idea in my head for this, but I decided to put that later. Sorry for the abnormal amount of suckishness.**


	12. Your faith was strong

**A/N I think you'll all be pleased to know that I finished the last chapter. :) Not all of the chapters, just the last one. Someone have an idea for a song for this chapter, let me know. This will be short.**

**Breathe**

**Next Chapter**

"Swan." someone beckoned from across the sync, the sound of his belt bouncing against his waste indicating to Charlie Swan that the man was striding with a purpose. He looked up.

"What is it, Martinez?" he breathed, blinking away the closing sleep that dragged him farther into his stupor.

"You should take a look at this." He waved a manilla folder in the air, gesturing for the police chief to follow. He did, hesitantly, irritably.

"We got a kid down in Port Angeles," Martinez said as Charlie caught stride with him, opening the folder to further the point, "a count for assaulting some girl in an alleyway."

"Okay," Charlie sighed, "send him down to another station. We don't handle it up here."

"WE checked his records," the younger man continued, pointing to a scribbled line on one of the documents as they turned towards the holding cells, "kid's got a record a mile long. Kicked out of Forks a few years back for sexual harrassment. Public intoxication, DUI, sexual assault, known for 'irratic' and 'violent' behavior--"

"_Why_ does this interest me?" Charlie asked, his impatience growing. As he passed the cells, the temperary inmates cursed him off. He clenched his teeth. They stopped at one, finally. A boy was limp on the stool, his head drunkenly leaned against the dirty wall. His mouth was open, and his snoring was probably the lodest noise in the room.

Martinez took something from the folder and shoved it into Chief Swan's hands, his jaw tight and his eyes unwavering, "We found this with his belongings."

Charlie froze at the chipped leather wallet and the driver's licence sticking out from it.

_Bella Swan_

**Author's Note**

**You all want me to update every five minutes, I'm updating every five minutes. This is what you get. :P**

**Anywho, I don't like those stories where five seconds into it their like, "I-I-I-I w-w-w-was r-r-r-raped." That doesn't happen. **_**Ever.**_

**Anyway, this is more a filler. More on it later. They'll find out, don't worry. God. It's called **_**build up**_**.**


	13. but you needed proof

_It´s all a game of this or that  
Now verses then  
Better off  
Against worse for wear  
you´re someone  
Who knows someone who knows someone  
I once knew  
And I just want to be a part of this_

-"Hum Halellujah", Fall Out Boy

**Breath**

**Jacob**

Jacob Black slummed around Port Angeles with no particular intention other then what his senses were telling him. Of course, they didn't make much sense either.

He passed people he had a feeling he'd seen before. Housewives with nothing better to do then spend money they didn't have, unemployed buissness men whereing last month's Prada trying to look important even though they smelled of cheap beer and sweat. Bums or gangsters or whatever the fuck they were called making suspicious deals at corner streets and alleyways. Jacob counted the cars, and some of them made his heart twist. Broen engines, rusty mufflers, flat tires, steam coming out of the _fucking gaspipe_. It was enough to make him cry, and it was all he had not to pull a bat and put the poor crap piles out of their misery.

His phone was like a lump of of steel in his pocket. Being part wolf, or all wolf, or whatever, he hadn't had much reason to carry a cell phone, seeing as everyone he usually needed to talk to was a thought away, except for Bella, who would probably forget it anyway. The blood-sucker, however, thought it necessary to keep him reletively close in contact if they were to be, say, snapping somebodies neck. But still, even clothes were like a second, wholly unnecessary, uncomfortable, itchy skin. Extra's made him feel like he were walking in Jell-O.

He focused on the scattered scents around him. Though he didn't excactly have _vampire _scenses, he was still--by genetic code--a predetor. He could smell every disgustingly tiny welp of flatulence, and every cell of burnt toast from the ten-thousand diner's around the city. He imagined it'd be buckets easier if he could read minds, but hey, you work with what you got.

It came, just as he spun a corner. Quick and cold and overwhelming. It was like rusty, tear soaked copper, mixed with the asphalt and spray paint around the alley. Jacob had to breath through his mouth to keep his lunch in place.

He turned on his heels with a deadly grace that could only be acheived with years of steady practice. A man in a seeminlgy drunken coma lay furled on his back, head propped up against the gritty birck wall, presperation kept his hair planted to his forehead with a blurred glimmer, his breath spent on snores that rivaled a big-rig. His gut, round, tremmered with them, shaking like a garbage bag full of cottage cheese.

Around him, as Jacob got closer, faint stains of copper were traced in splatters in the concrete. The smell grew stronger, making Jacob's eyes sting and his throat catch. It was painfully familiar to him. He threw back his foot and slammed it into the man's side, not hard enough to crack a bone. "Yo, Avon calling."

The man jumped in his place, the bottle slipping from his fingers and crashing into a shower of vodka and glass, "Whaddya..."

"Get up, superstar." Jacob growled, his breathing coming in hisses from his throat.

The man, disoriented, squinted up at him, his face reddening in indignation, "Who're you?"

"_Get up!" _

His eyes dropped and he scrambled to his feet, "Look, man, I ain't got no money, I---"

"Shut up," Jacob hissed, without thinking, letting his arm shoot forward and bunch the man's ratty coat in his fist, pulling him up, "where were you two nights ago?"

The man fumbled over his words, going on a rambling story about some bar encounter or whatever. Jacob, impatient, came to the conclusion that he probably didn't have the stigma to do more then walk three feet in a strait line. He threw him to the side and watched him wobble to the corner and around the turn.

He looked down at the sidewalk. The stains were a dull copper, shining from the spilled vodka, the broken glass catching the scarce light. Jacob knew what it was, even before he had looked at it. Blood, and lots of it.

Bella's blood.

**A/N Oh, man, I have no idea what to do next, so now I'm rambling.**


	14. you saw her bathing on the roof

**Your all pretty aware I'm not one to beg for reviews. In fact, I pretty much hate people who hold chapters hostage for some ego-brushing. I find it pretty irritating, and I purposely don't review folks who resort to that. But I recently checked my stats (which I hadn't done for a while) and I found that I'm four reviews away from a hundred. Thye don't have to be raving or none of that. Thye could be flames. They could be insulting my mother. They could even be advertisments for whatever it is you feel like advertizing. I'm finished with the next chapter and I won't post it until I get a hundred reviews. That is FOUR REVIEWS people. Not hard.**

**Again, I don't beg very often. I'm probably being a bitch, but, yeah, I want bragging rights, goddamnit.**

**~Danielle~**


	15. her beauty and the moonlight overthrew u

**A/N Congrats, you know how to press the review button. However, I'm pretty sure this will be a dissapointment.**

_Stop saying that we're invincible  
(it's round and round)  
You're uninviting, unrewarding  
And I'm misinforming you_

-"Reinventing Your Exit", Underoath

Charlie Swan sat at his kitchen table, a chipped leather wallet rotating between his calloused fingers, his eyes downcast. His thoughts rotated in no particular order, from if he left his spare gun at Billy's house to why the fuck his daughter's wallet had been found with an (alleged?) rapist. Mostly on the gun, though.

The screen door was slammed, and light footsteps tapped closer and closer until they were at the opposite doorway. Charlie didn't look up. He held the wallet up, though, waving it with a twitch of his wrist.

"Found your wallet." he remarked.

Bella said nothing, looking at Charlie with alien eyes, eyes of someone with a frightening indifference to most everything around them.

"It was," he continued, "with a kid we brought in. Found it in his pocket."

She leaned against the doorframe, "Oh."

Charlie tapped his finger against the table top, leaning back against the chair and looking at his daughter expectedly, "He assaulted a girl in an alley down in Port Angeles."

Her face was slightly less stoic, her eyes flashing. But still, she said nothing.

"Something you want to tell me?" he said, quitely, not really gentle, more as filling.

She shrugged, shaking her head and walking to the stove, "What do you want for dinner?"

He clenched his teeth and rubbed his eyes, "I ordered pizza."

She twitched her jaw, so she was looking at him through the corner of her eyes, "Oh."

She made her way toward the stairs.

"Hey," said Charlie, "don't walk away from me."

She stopped short and looked at him. Charlie felt guilty, for some reason. Just the look of surprise on her face.

"You've been a zombie for days, Bella," he sighed, "I haven't seen you like this since Edward--"

"Don't," she practicely hissed, "bring Edward into this."

Charlie, surprised, shook his head, "Fine," he said, hands thrown in defeat, "No Edward. I just want to know if your alright."

"I'm fine." she said.

Charlie looked her, tried to force her eyes on his, trying to find something resembling emotion. He could tell she was trying hard, her jaw clenched and her teeth ground together, to keep herself upright. She blinked alot.

"Can I go now?" she asked.

He never looked away, "Fine. Do your homework."

She started off again, and he began to call for her again, but the sound of the door slamming cut him off, and he didn't hear another word from her. He looked down.

She forgot the wallet.

**A/N Yeah, got tonz of reviews, so I believe some shoutouts are in order:**

**Carlisle060: I will!**

**drangonfly and malilee: I'm glad it's not crap...I hope...**

**sailboatsnbeaches: I am!**

**KNowiski: I'm glad your enjoying yourself.**

**klsymrrsn: I'm glad your happiness is my fault.**

**dramione12: 1) Love your screen name 2) You don't have to review **_**every **_**chapter.**

**shewhoshallwrite: Yes, it is a bit irritating.**

**Miss FHorn: Congrats on the Honor Band. Looking at your fic right now...**

**Starmaker Superstar: Yes, well, I'm progressing...**

**..Disco: Hostage situation based on real events. Here's a new 'chappy'. I respect your advertisment. Updating...**

**Lady Chancellor: You made an account for me? I'm honored.**

**tallo123: Apparently ten isn't very hard either :)**

**Shewolf24: I am!**

**cheryl1972: Where's the angst in that? If you haven't noticed, angst is my forte. Thanks for the review, though.**

**CameoRuby: Not that I know of...And one more doesn't hurt.**

**Warrior Priestess: Texas accent? That's pazzazz, my friend.**

**storm-brain: rolls eyes back**

P.S. Sorry it's short...


	16. She tied you to her kitchen chair

**Author's Note: **I'm gonna be honest--I really kind of hate this story. But I have over a hundred alerts, so I feel a bit obligated. Sorry if it's rushed...no, I'm not sorry. There are _thousands _of other Twilight fanfics out there. Read one of _them_.

God. Bella really needs to get a personality. She might like it.

* * *

_"You made yourself a bed  
At the bottom of the blackest hole _

_And convinced yourself that  
It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore"_

-"When It Rains", Paramore_  
_

I found myself avoiding Charlie, dragging myself out of bed early and coming home as late as I could. I suddenly had three papers due and a diagram, and he laid off.

Edward was...a different story.

One day, after what must have been one or two weeks, he began to get desperate.

I stomped towards the parking lot with my head bowed and my fingers clutching my books so hard the whites of my knuckles showed, when I felt a stone like vice wrap around my forearm and pull me aside.

_My head hurts._

A yelp interrupted the usual flow of chatter in the hallways, like a dog being kicked. I realized it was me, and I blushed under the stares I earned.

Edward looked at me, his marble smooth forehead looking as though it were fighting against the stone of his skin to crease. I couldn't imagine him, looking like this, looking so beautifully afraid, ever being a threat to anyone. I held my breath, and he held his.

"Please," he said, his voice almost broken, if it was possible. Desperation. "please, Bella. _Talk to me_."

Oh, God. What was I doing to him?

It was easier to stare at the pale eggshell wall over his shoulder, my jaw locked so tight I worried my jaw would snap. I couldn't look at him. A knot of untwistable guilt lay halfway between my stomach and throat, and I would have thrown up. I could have, That's why I avoided his eye.

"Bella," So quiet, almost hysterical. Lovely, like the sweetest kind of ballad, but frantic. He shouldn't be like this, "Tell me what I did. Tell me what happened. Just _say something."_

The final bell rung, and tried to walk away.

_God, my head hurts._

He didn't move his grip, and I winced. His hand, almost instantly, snapped back to his side.

"Just let me drive you home. Please."

I forced myself--more out of self punishment, then anything--to look at him, his ridiculously perfect face. My head hurt.

"Yeah..." I said, and my voice was faint, cracking, the opposite of his lyrical words, "...yeah. Okay."

God help me, I couldn't say no.

--

We drove. And not much else.

He attempted conversation every few minutes, commenting on Alice's love affair with shoes and Emmett's inability to say five sentences without some kind of sexual innuendo. I nodded along with him, and he soon drifted off. He looked at me, though he was driving at least one hundred and fifty down a sixty mile lane. It made me uncomfortable.

We glided closer and closer towards his house, he mentioned in an off handed manor, "Esme really does miss having you around. She has all this food sitting in the refrigerator..." he seemed to trail off, recalling a humorous memory and twitching his lips.

"I have...homework."

His face fell, and his knuckles turned white under it's grip of the steering wheel. "Oh."

My breath came evenly, though my heart beat so loudly I could hardly hear it. I looked down at my hands, fingering the healing scraps on my palm.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

I stiffened, and stared out the window, "Why do you ask?"

He tapped his fingers, "I haven't seen you at lunch, and you look..." he paused, as though looking for the right word, "thin."

Not that I've checked, but if I had to guess, I've probably lost ten pounds. "Oh."

The trees pass in a forest green blur, the sky a gray streak of empty color between their fine branches. They'll fall out soon, and it'll be winter.

I could see the Cullen house up ahead. Edward began to slow the car.

"Edward," I sighed, to exasperated to say much else.

"Just for a minute," Was he begging? "I'll drive you home. Just for a minute. I just want to talk."

I said nothing, and he took that as a yes. We approached the spiral drive way, and I saw my truck.

I looked at him questionably.

He smirked, "Alice. I heard her before we left the school."

I winced as I thought of the speed it would require to drive my truck to the Cullen house faster then the Volvo. It was a wonder the tires didn't blow.

He parked, and he held the door open for me before I even saw him get out of the car.

The house had not changed from the last time I was in it. Still pristine, still impeccably sterile. It didn't seem fair, doing this to him. It didn't seem fair even being in his home. After what I'd done, nothing seemed fair.

"Bella!"

Alice rushed over and crushed me in something far more violent then a hug, and I winced.

"Alice...seriously..." I gasped, though I found myself missing her. Almost like a reflex.

She let go, and went on in a beret of apologies and updates on everything I seemed to have missed, how much she missed me, how much Esme missed me, how much _everyone _missed me. I felt she was exaggerating, but I said nothing of it. It wasn't until Edward cleared his throat that she stopped herself and let him lead me towards the stairs.

Along the entire three feet, the rest of the Cullens seemed to have stumbled upon us, offering their own form of what I'm sure they believed to be casual small talk. Esme even went on about how thin I've gotten, and how she'll have to fatten me up or something of the like.

Edward did alot of throat clearing until we were in his room. He still had the leather couch, surrounded by half closed books and CD's. He waited until I sat to say a word.

"Is something wrong?" What an obvious question.

I shook my head and stared at a pile of thick volumes beside the small coffee table, "No. Nothing."

His gaze was relentless, "Are you sure? Charlie called. He's worried," I held my breath, "so am I."

"I'm fine." It sounded more like a question to my own ears.

"Bella," he said, his voice hard, "your...hardly eating. Your hardly speaking. Charlie tells me..." he shook his head, leaving it open ended. "Please...just tell me."

"Nothings wrong." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. My nails dug into my palms, and I winced at the pressure.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked. I looked up at him.

"Doing what?"

He gently pried my wrist away, "That. Torturing yourself."

I pulled my arm to my chest, and started to stand up, "I'm not. I should go."

He was up faster, and he made no attempt to pull me back, only followed, "What happened? I promise I'll leave you alone, just _tell me what happened to you."_

I froze, shocked. I'd only ever heard that tone less then a handful of times. It was beyond description. It was past desperation and despair. It was just _frantic._

It was like he was at the ballet studio.

I have to leave.

I opened the door, and pounded down the stairs. Tears went like lava down my cheeks, and I hurriedly wiped them away. He followed me.

"Bella," he was right behind me, "_Bella!"_

"Edward!" Alice shouted, and I saw her spiked bob of hair from the hall down the stairs, before his hand sprung out, and grabbed my wrist.

_Crack_

Loud enough for the weakest of vampires to hear, though only a whisper to me, it was quiet.

His hands un clenched and sprung to his side. It didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. Only the tears burning my cheeks, and my heart throbbing inside my chest. Still, I brought my arm towards me, and looked at it.

Edwards face was shocked. And worried. And guilty. And disgusted. He looked down at his own hand. "Bella..." he croaked.

"Bells..." Emmetts voice, from the foot of the stairs, "Bella, he didn't mean it..."

"I'm fine," I whispered, going down the remained stairs and rushing past the crowd of vampires collected around me, "I'm fine, it's fine..."

"Bella," Alice was saying, following me, "Bella, it was an accident. Carlisle can--"

"I'm _fine," _I meant it to be harsh, finale. It was more of a sob. I found the keys on a table towards the door, and grabbed them, pushing the door open and rushing towards the truck.

"He didn't mean it!" Alice sounded as though she could cry. Her voice was as pleading as his, and I felt claustrophobic. Another ball of guilt grew in my stomach.

I was tearing this family _apart._

I heard a collection of voices. Carlisle's was the mos distinguishable, calm and steady, but Edward's still played around my mind like a bad song;

_Tell me what happened to you..._

"No!" I held my hand to my chest and started the truck, pulling away from Alice and Edward and the rest of them, rushing as fast as the truck would take me, in no plausible direction, until the tears blurred my vision. I pulled over at the side of the road, and cried into the steering wheel.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, for my own amusement, how about we play the review game? Let's say...I don't know...ten? And that might get me some time to get past my utter disdain for this series to finish this fic? Hmmm? Alright, **ten it is**.

Also, due to this current disdain, I'm worried I started getting a little too...sarcastic. But this is, after all, the closest anyone will ever get to plot/character development from me. Sorry if it sucks. Definitely not pun intended.

You know what would make me post FASTER? Nominating me for a...TWILIGHT AWARD!

I know, I'm shameless. I never beg, but, then again, I win very little seeing as I'm a wonderfully active under-achiever. www DOT twilightawards DOT this-paradise DOT com/. Yes, I have resorted to bribing. I don't know. I like winning stuff :)


	17. she broke your throne

_"Pain, I can't get enough_

_Pain, I like it rough. _

'_Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all"_

-"Pain," Three Days Grace

I'm not crazy.

I'm not muttering to myself, and I'm not rocking in a corner with drool running down my chin. That is the definition of crazy, which I am not. I'm just seeing things.

I'm...just...seeing...things.

The truck seems to park itself in the driveway, with me rather useless at the wheel, shaking and driving with the knuckle of my hands. The sun is going down, until the sky is a bright, grey tinted orange that seems alot brighter then it should. I feel my breath more then I hear it, like cold water running in and out of my neck. I fumble with my keys and the door handle at the same time, my hand a pale blur through my tear soaked eyes. I open and close it in one jerky motion, running up the drive and into the house. I didn't see Charlie's cruiser.

Blurs of colors and shades are spotted around the house, some just that--blurs. Others are moving, slowly, like a television with a veil over the screen. They convulse and shake and laugh...laughing...laughing at me...

I can't breath.

My hand throbs and I'm crying and gasping and the walls are getting closer and closer and I swear to God the stairs weren't this high the last time I went up them and I can't think and I can't breath...I'm seeing things...but I'm not crazy...

He...broke my...hand. My hand...I went to school, it was fine...and then, I was in his car...in his house...I left...my hand hurts...I can't think...God, the stairs...

"Edward..." I whisper through my teeth, and tears taste bitter against my lips. I realize I'm leaning on the outside of my door, and nudge it open enough for me to slip inside. I slam it shut--loudly--and slide down until I'm sitting with my knees in front of me and my elbow pressing into my stomach. I'm shaking...not really crying. I was crying, I _am _crying...but no sounds coming out. It's caught in the back of my throat, and empty tears roll down my cheeks. I think my face would look stoic right now, except for my mouth. Open and gasping...but there's no sign of me crying. Except the tears.

"Edward." I say again, and my voice is very clear, and even, and not at all like I thought it would.

A spot--larger then a spot--has followed me up the stairs, black and red, a blank space in the middle that seems to form a smile, and it chuckles. It chuckles like he does. It chuckles like Edward, too. Mostly like him, though. It sends shivers down my spine...

_What happened to you..._

_...he didn't mean it..._

_Stop..._

_...hold her down..._

"I...am...crazy." I say to myself. My head begins to throb, and I bury it in my hands, one of them curled into a fist, and the other in a numb sort of pain. I want to scream.

I'm...crazy.

* * *

Somewhere in La Push, Washington, a phone rings.

"Hello?" a gruff voice asks, and another answers.

This voice is cool, almost lyrical, sagging with concern, but still lovely. Like music.

"She's...God..." It says.

The other voice is more alert, now, and it says with a touch of panic, "What? Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

This voice, the beautiful one, can't seem to answer, and there is static for a moment, before a new voice speaks, a women's;

"Jacob? This is Alice."

"What? Is she okay?"

This other voice is speaking quickly, "She's...I don't know. Edward...did something. We need--"

"What?" the other voice is outraged, "What the fuck did he do? If he hurt her--"

"She's fine, Jacob," this women's voice hisses, now panicked herself, "she...there was an argument and..." she paused, a very long pause, "Go. Check on her. Stay with her until we can get there. Her hand will be broken--"

"_What?" _The gruff voice shouts, so loudly it causes static over the electrical cords connecting the two, "What the hell did that _bloodsucker--"_

"_Shut up, Jacob!" _the women's voice says, deadly and calm, that of a predator, "Just go to Forks, stay with Bella until Carlisle and I can get there. She ran off before we could do anything."

The gruff voice snorted, "I wonder why."

"Don't start, dog," the women's voice sneered, "we'll be there. Don't let her leave, under any circumstances. We don't know what she'll...do."

This gruff voice in La Push paused, though when it spoke again, it was nervous, and shaking, "What's...going on?"

This women's voice was silent, for moments, before it said anything. When it did, it was quick, rushed;

"Find out."

The line went dead.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, I'm updating. Happy? Now, because you fangirls can't let it lie, Bella is crazy and I'm using corny writing devices.


	18. and she cut your hair

Faces and voices blended together in a chorus of colors, making as little sense as the one before it.

Laughing...

_...Hold her down..._

_Bella..._

_...what happened to you?_

Hands...

...screams...

....laughter...

Laughing...

"Stop!" I shrieked to no one. No one was around, I was alone. But the laughter continued, so loud. In my ear, right in my ear, like they were in front of me, leaning over me. Invisible hands wrapped around my wrist like iron vices, pressing them against a rough surface. I cried and screamed and kicked, "Stop, s_top!"_

I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything except the laughter, the pained pleading of Edward. Laughing...

Edward laughing...

Alice...pointing...Rosalie, her voice twisted in a disgusted kind of hatred, _"What are you doing here, Bella?"_

She clenched her jaw, like she had the first day, and growled.

Charlie and Renee laughing...they were all laughing....and pointing...screaming...

_"Edward?" _I choked. I saw his face, so clearly, swiveling and twisting and curling, in my head. I couldn't find him. Only his laughter...

I was sobbing and convulsing against the floor, and hands pinned me down until I couldn't move, "Stop! Edward..._stop!"_

_"Bella?"_

..._"What happened to you?"_

_Why are you doing this..._

_...idiot..._

"_No!"_

"Bella!"

Everything...swirling together...laughing...

_"Stop laughing!" _I shrieked. The hands grew stronger, more gentle, more solid. Two of them, one against my shoulder, one against my arm.

"Bella!"

_Jacob..._

"Get _off of me!"_

"_Bella! Wake up!"_

My eyes were closed. My eyes were closed. Closed.

I opened them.

I saw nothing, for a moment, but a dark brown head of hair, brushing my cheeks, and the arms that held me loosened. My chest rose and fell, and I felt my lungs reach for air. I sobbed and gasped and blinked, and Jacob's face came into view.

"God, Bells," he whispered, and I suddenly felt my cheek against his chest, his hand running up and down my back. Horrible, gut wrenching songs shook the walls, and I realized it was me, "What happened to you?"

* * *

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE, BITCHES!**

**I have an...idea. The whole cliche of Edward never coming back in New Moon and Bella getting raped and getting pregnant and having a girl who's suspiciously **_**just like the author **_**and Edward comes back and it's all really fake angst and...eh. Well, I have an idea.**

**Edward left, didn't come back. Bella does not jump like a suicidal loser. She goes to college, she meets this guy, who's a jerk, right? She has sex--yes, she's able to do that without being pinned to an alley wall--even though she thinks he's kind of a douche. She gets pregnant. And that's the prologue. **

**The story? I'm thinking son grows up, turns sixteen/seventeen, walking home from school. His blood smells a helluva lot like Bella's. Edward, for reasons undetermined, is in the neighborhood, smells his blood, starts chasing him. That's all I got. Would you folks read it? Let me know.**

**P.S. This chapter is supposed to be confusing. I don't want complaints saying it's making your head hurt or some crap.**


	19. And from your lips she drew

_"Oh, look what I've done to you_

_the monster I've turned into"_

-"Nothing Matters", Yellow Taxicab

Edward stared at his hands, and nothing else.

He'd...broken her _bones. _After he'd spent so long trying to protect her, to keep her safe...the damage is on his hands.

_Crack_

The look on her face...shock, hurt. Confusion. _Fear_. He'd done that, he'd hurt her. He was a monster.

"God..." he whispered. Jasper sat next to him, sending constant waves of calm throughout the air, maybe even towards himself. Edward twitched as his brother's hand fell on his shoulder, relinquishing a sickening wave of ease throughout his body until he felt he could have collapsed, if possible. He looked back down, feeling the perfection of his fingers, the joints, left untouched through years of abuse. It made no sense.

He had, in normal terms, earned his doctorate several times over, and was well aware of the anatomy of a human being. When knuckles are compressed under certain amounts of pressure at certain speeds over certain surfaces, such as punching someones jaw, an amount of damage is always left behind to the joints connecting the hand to fingers. He's punched many, many things. His hand is always left impeccably immaculate, like an overgrown newborn's. It added to the isolation this life brought for Edward. A reminder of what he no longer was.

"You didn't mean it, Edward," Jasper whistered, "it was an accident."

Edward swallowed air, digging his face into the palm of his hands, "You heard her, Jasper. She was _terrified."_

Jasper let out an intake of breath and rubbed his forehead. Edward instantly felt guilty. These waves of emotion--over the last few weeks, at least--must have been overwhelming to him. Edward tried to calm himself for this sake.

"Alice is watching her," Jasper said, "If she decides to do anything..." he looked up, as though searching for the easiest word, "...drastic, we'll know about it."

Edward clenched his jaw and stood up, more for something to do with himself then anything, "I _did _that to her, Jasper! The only reason she's..._like _this is because of me."

Jasper furrowed his eyebrows and aimed his concentration on Edward, "Edward..."

Edward growled in frustration, "I just...I don't know what's _wrong _with her! She won't _tell _me anything. It's like she's a _ghost!"_

"Edward..." Jasper groaned, looking up with wary eyes, "please..."

His shoulders shook, and he glided towards the stairs, "Forget it, Jasper. This doesn't concern you."

XxXxXxX

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle looked up from his thick volume to see Rosalie, poised at the door entrance with her arms crossed and her shoulders stiff. He smiled, more out of habit, and leaned back against the hard wood chair, "Rosalie. What can I help you with?"

She stepped in, still elegant in her hesitance, and approached the writing desk, "I...need to talk to you. About Bella."

The older vampire set his jaw, and tapped his fingers against the table top, "Any word?"

Rosalie shook her head, flipped a lock of blonde hair from her shoulder, "No. Alice called Jacob to check up on her until she gets there."

As far as he knew, Rosalie did not care for Bella. She had no interest in what she and Edward did together, and she thoroughly believed the girl was endangering the entire family, and that Edward was being selfish in letting it continue. Carlisle, naturally, hadn't a clue why she would be reacting like this. He could swear on his dead father's grave the contortment of feature on her porcelain face was concern, worry even.

"Rosalie," he said quietly, leaning his elbows against the desk, "I'm sure she's fine. Edward---"

"Do you remember," she interupted, looking at the wall behind Carlisle's shoulder, "when you changed me? When I woke up, and I remembered what Royce..._did _to me?"

Carlisle leaned back once more, and examined her. She wore no makeup, leaving her eyes undauntedly golden that seemed to cast a light of their own, and her cheeks were whiter then usual. Pallid, icy, but softer. Her hair was no longer in a stiff up-do that she usually picked from the month's fashion magazine, instead hanging limply against her shoulders and hanging down her forehead. Her blouse was wrinkled--a near sin, living in a house with Alice--and it showed signs of fading, something Rosalie would have never so much as entertained the thought of. It was clear that, at this moment, she cared little for her physical appearance. Her eyes were dry.

"I do," he said, slowly, watching for traces of a reaction, "you were...distraught."

Her head perked, but her eyes remained fixed on the golden wall paper covering the room, "Do you remember how I wouldn't..._speak _to anyone. For days, after."

Carlisle remembered, dimly, veiled by the years, the days following Rosalie's transformation, "Yes. Rosalie, that was a natural reaction--"

"Do you _remember _though," she snapped, and her eyes became sharp, "How I couldn't even _look _at you, or Edward? How I would just go to a corner and literally do _nothing _for _days."_

His thoughts drifted, and Carlisle began to piece together the meaning of his daughter's words, "You don't think..."

Rosalie expression was grim, "Alice told me about her vision, while she and Edward were in Italy. It's all there, Carlisle."

Carlisle leaned back once more, for the pure reason of nothing else to say, "Rose..." he said, quietly, "those are serious...allegations. You don't know for sure--"

"What don't I _know _Carlisle?" she hissed, and her head suddenly snapped up, "What other explanation _is _there? Do you honestly think she would be acting this way over a _mugging?"_

"I understand how you feel, Rosalie," he said, keeping his voice even, "but we have to think rationally. We can't go around guessing these things and getting everyone--especially Edward--upset unless we know _for sure."_

Her teeth grounded together, and she sloppily sweeped her bangs out of her eyes, "Do you think she's actually tell _us? _We can't just let this _slide!"_

"It's a _suspicion, _Rosalie!" Carlisle reasoned, vaguely wondering if he were the last rational being in the Cullen family.

She looked at him with flaming eyes, near murderous in her fury. When she spoke, however, it was in a quiet, shaking voice that hardly told the same story, "Edward deserves to know."

Carlisle gaped at her unreasonably, "_We _don't even know--"

"Then I'll find out." she snapped, storming from the room. Carlisle's protest was cut off by the sound of the door slamming.

* * *

**Author's Note: THERE! I FREAKING UPDATED! Are we happy?**

**I literally--not exaggerating--wrote this in ten minutes, and it could be crap. I don't know, I haven't actually looked through it. **

**It's time for another round of the review game!...Yay.**

**Three, cause then I'll get two hundred :) Also, just for kicks, at least five reviews for my Victoria oneshot, **_**The Red Angel, **_**because I'm a sucker for shameless promotion.**

**And, again for kicks, whoever reviews **_**all **_**my Twilight fanfics--no matter how terrible--will get a shout out in the next chapter. Whoo...hooo. Crappy prizes, but it's all I got. Make sure you leave a little signature, or I'm gonna forget.**


	20. the hallelujah

Jacob Black was....confused.

Bella was still in his arms, and her soft, gentle breathing indicated she had fallen asleep. Her tears soaked through his shirt sleeve, and glistened against her cheeks. Jacob looked up at the door, expecting Charlie to come in and see him in this slightly compromising position with his daughter, but nothing came. There was no tapping of shoes, or turning of keys, or clacking of dishes. No voices or phones or sniffing or sneezing, and even the breathing from them both were quiet whispers, drifting off with every gust of wind from the still open window.

All.

Was.

Silent.

"Bella?" he whispered, his own voice alien to his ears. He was greeted with nothing, more silence.

To his fevered hands, Bella was cold. Freezing. As though she had spent the last few days residing in an icebox. It hardly effected him--he could stand the coldest of temperatures--but it was obvious. She trembled in her sleep, silently twitching, as though repressing a scream. He took her by waist and effortlessly lifted her the half step to the bed. Laying her with ease onto the mattress, he pulled the covers over her and waited for the moment when she's wake up, the moment when she'd realize who it was and tell him everything.

This moment didn't come. She remained motionless, and her head seemed to sink into the pillow, as though a black hole rested beneath her head.

He should leave. Charlie would come home, be angry, be _furious, _to see anyone in his daughter's room, watching her sleep like a sort of crazed stalker.

Jacob internally laughed. No wonder he hated Edward.

Edward.

A growl hummed through his throat, low and deadly. What did he do to her?

It _was _him, he told himself. Her hand was broken in a way only someone with the strength of a boulder could cause. The fading bruises on her arms and shoulders made her look sickly, vibrant against her pale skin. Purple circled her eyes like shadows. Tired.

"Jacob," a voice hissed from beside him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun on his heal, still in his crouching position.

Alice's face was contorted into what only could be described as melancholy, almost glaring down at him like a lioness protecting her cub.

He stood up, and looked down at her inhuman face, "Tell me what happened."

Alice was one of the Cullens that Jacob could tolerate. He might even go as far to say he enjoyed her presence at times. But right now, here, he couldn't stand the sight of her golden eyes and her perfectly sculpted face. It sent waves of anger through his veins, and he could have hit someone.

"This doesn't concern you, Jacob," she said, wariness evident in her voice.

Jacob grounded his teeth together, leaning in so he were chin to forehead with the vampire, "I say," he seethed, "it _does _concern me. I deserve to know what your bloodsucking _brother--"_

"It was an _accident," _she hissed, and she--for a moment--looked every bit as deadly as she was, "and I'm _telling _you to _leave_, dog, before I _remove you."_

This was odd behavior for the usually optimistic Alice, and it left Jacob unsettled, dampening his rage until all he could find the energy to do was slump his shoulders and stare back at Bella.

"What...Jesus, what _happened_?" he whispered.

The change in atmosphere was drastic, from tense and hostile to almost abysmal.

Something was wrong, something that neither of the two knew about, and all they could do was watch and guess in silence.

* * *

_Winners of...the...shoutouts...._

xXSizzlingBabeXx

peppermintlyle

..Disco

cullensforlife

_And the special "200th Review Award": _

bellagirl008 (I think?)

Wow, you guys can _review. _I'm almost to 300. Thanks, you little scamps. Let's say...I don't know...fifteen for next chapter? I think it can be done.

**Sorry I made Alice so bitchy. I figure she had to be eventually.**

**This was...rushed. I will not be offended if you tell me so. I will not be offended it you come to my house and whip me to atone for this monstrocity of a sin. I wrote it in a few minutes, and it's...not **_**bad, **_**per say...more...not **_**good.**_


	21. well, baby I've been here before

**Author's Note: **The reason this update has taken so long is that I really have decided I will make at least ONE substantial chapter that ACTUALLY moves the plot along. I've pretty much finished all the chapters to my new Twilight fic (which I will wait until interest has gone up HINT FRIKKEN HINT to post) and now I thought I'd be nice and give you a real chapter (not a filler). So, here it is. If it seems rushed, it's only because I want to move it along so I can post my amazing LAST CHAPTER which I wrote cause I had the idea in my head and couldn't wait. So.

Also, I will admit, I love the monstrous amount of reviews I get every time I post a new chapter. Keep 'em coming, especially since I worked a WHOLE THREE DAYS on this one. You better love it. You better read it _multiple _times, for all the work I put into it.

* * *

_"I have a secret_

_a dirty little secret_

_would you care either way?"_

-"My Little Disaster", The Survival Instinct

Rosalie gripped the wheel until her fingers left indents in it. Her hair was a mess, strewn every which way, and only traces of her unwashed makeup could be seen on her pallid, beautiful face. She didn't care.

She quite nearly side-swiped a diaper truck (promptly avoiding with a twitch of her pinky) as she rushed deeper into Forks, past the grocery stores and garage sales and squatted little houses that pressed up against one another like hoards of sheep. The trees and smog of the sky passed in a grey and green blur through the car windows.

It was raining.

A house came into view, through the branches of damp Oaks and sweating leaves, and she pressed her feet even farther into the gas pedal (though it was already plastered against the floor, on the verge of snapping).

The wheels bumped against every rock and stone, jostling her against the leather seats. As quick as a flash of lightning, Rosalie switched pressure from one pedal to another, nearly spinning the car on it's front wheels and face down into the dirt.

Her breath went on purely for her desire to seethe, to hear the gust of empty hair whistle through the thin gaps in her teeth, to remind her of something human she once had. Surely, she could not remember now, at this moment, when all she could smell was blood and all she could hear was the sound of bones snapping. She needed to be human. Just for now, just until she knew.

She noticed--very, very distantly--Alice's little red car parked some thirty feet away from the driveway, and she suspected Jacob Black to be somewhere as well. Coddling to no end, not even attempting to understand the reasoning behind this behavior. So...typical.

Tough love, she reasoned, always gets the job done.

Rosalie--with reflexes only found in the most nimble of cats--kicked off a tree and crawled up the side of the house like a reptile, swinging through the window she knew to be Bella's and landing with a precise, graceful bump of her heels. A deep gasp was audible before she even bothered to turn around, and the sound of Alice clocking her tongue with disapproval was like salt to her already irritable wound. Her expression was hard.

A lump lay still in the bed, her torso leaned against the backboard and her hair in such knots and frenzies it was hard to distinguish where her face began and it ended. Her cracked knuckles were held against her chest, as though unsure whether or not it was still connected to her wrist. She looked at Alice and Jacob as though--by everything she knew--she wished they would leave. Her body language, the dry glint in her eyes...she didn't want to be around anyone. Desperately, she didn't.

_Tough luck._

"Rosalie," Alice said, not sounding too incredibly shocked, "what are you doing here?"

Rosalie let her teeth clatter against each other as she spoke. "I need to speak with Bella. Alone."

Jacob--the protective fool--stomped in front of Bella, like a mother lion would her cub. "I'm not leaving her with _you, _leech."

Just the audacity in his voice made me chuckle, even as a sense of fury rises in my through like bile, "Please, dog. This isn't a fight you can win."

Alice, Rosalie noted, silently agreed.

"Rose," she said quietly, "I've given her some pain medication Carlisle subscribed. She's not very..._lucid." _She looked over at the girl, her eyes open, though looking at nothing, and she seemed on the verge of wary, disillusioned tears. It was an odd sort of expression.

Perfect, Rosalie thought. When the human mind is under the influence of drugs, alcohol, medication, the part that would normally filter lies from truths was disarmed, even dissolved. Making this job significantly easier.

"I don't care," she hissed. "I have to speak with her. _Now."_

And, oh, how his face tightened. It was as though someone had a string on the inside of his face and started pulling. His eyes seemed to harden, flashing with...something.

Anger?

Dismissal?

Irritants?

Fear, Rosalie decided. Fear, masked so elegantly in a shield of masculinity, over-protectiveness. She could tell by his tension, his eyes flicking like bugs on a lightbulb.

It was...fantastic, in a sadistic kind of way.

He _knew _this, knew what Rosalie could _do _to him...throw him around like he weighed nothing...snap his spine like a dry branch...

"You should leave," he said. Teeth clenched. Muscles tight.

Perfect.

She smiled at him--no, not a smile. It was too unnatural to be a smile. More like...a twist of dead tendons that sent chills up any body's spine. Even though she looked up at him--after all, he _is _six feet tall--she could feel him recoil as she stepped forward.

"_Move."_

"Jacob..." Alice cautioned, her thin pale arm slicing the little space between the two. "Let her talk. She's not going to hurt anyone." Her eyes shifted towards Rosalie, as though to confirm this.

He reluctantly shifted, after several moments hesitation, and the release of his scent from her nostrils was like liberation. Like being released from prison.

_My God, _Rosalie thought, _he smells._

* * *

He said, "You should leave"

She said, "Move."

No, she didn't say it. She hissed it, seethed it, spit it from her tongue like a bad taste. Like a disease, the plague. _Filth._

Alice, now. "Jacob..."

She said.

They all said.

From behind the fog, they were all speaking. Speaking through a mask, through a wall, through lead. My head thudded, and I pushed the sound back to it's deepest crevices. So far back, they wouldn't disturb me. Wouldn't bother me.

_Bella_

_Bella_

_Be...lla_

_Isa...bella_

_Look_

_at_

_me._

_No, _I thought, _let me wallow in peace. Let me suffer alone._

Let me feel sorry for myself.

Ghost of a color, of beautiful yellow and frigid white, poked through my lashes. I hadn't realized my eyes were even open, looking at the inside of my elbow for the last...hour? Day? Week? Year?

I don't know. I don't know anything.

God, my stomach.

"Isabella Swan, _look at me."_

I don't know what I said then. Something along the line of "fuck off". Of course, I couldn't be sure. My throat said what it did, me having no control over it. Everything was on autopilot. Bella isn't here at the moment, please leave a message.

Cold hands clamped down on my forearm, and I was shaken so hard my eyes flew open and a jolt of surprise shot up my sleeping limbs.

I looked at her, and she looked back.

Jacob, he was gone. Alice was gone. I was alone with her...this thing...this _deadly _thing...who hated...me...

"What happened to you?"

It was such a repeated question, so tiresome and goddamn used it could forge no reaction out of me. It was the _tone, _though, that surprised me.

Hard and soft. Cold and warm. Sharp and smooth.

All at once.

Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, the door farther away. I was swimming in the golden pool of her eyes, drowning and sputtering. I couldn't breathe.

"Do you remember," Rosalie said quietly, like a whisper, "the story I told you? _My _story? Do you remember?"

I did.

"My fiance, you remember. How he was drunk, I told you. How he smelled like stale alcohol, _cheap _and _rich _and _dirty _all at one time?"

Oh.

"I told you, didn't I? How he was with his friends, laughing and stumbling over themselves like a group of pigs? I told you how they laughed, and laughed and laughed..."

_...hold her down..._

Shut up, Rosalie.

"No," I whispered, more of a refusal.

"I trusted him. I thought I _knew _him." Her eyes shifted, softening and hardening and all kinds of things that I couldn't be sure were conscious on her part. "But you didn't know them, did you, Bella?"

I hate you, Rosalie.

_...feisty, aren't you?..._

"They were strangers," she spoke so quietly, it was almost as though she were talking to herself. "You didn't know them. They just found you, in the middle of the night. There were too many of them, weren't there? You couldn't fight back."

"Rosalie." My voice was a strangled whisper. "Shut up."

"You cried and you kicked and you screamed, but _no one heard you."_

"Shut the _hell _up!"

My throat was so tight I thought I was about to choke to death. It seemed like the mattress was sitting on my chest, my fevered skull pounding like a basketball. I was hot, cold, hot, cold.

Shutup_shut_upshut_up_shutupSHUTUP!

Shut UP! (I thought I was screaming) SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!

_...hold her still, ha..._

_HAha_

_Laughing...stop laughing..._

The walls change colors, turn into ugly contorted faces and hollow, empty eyes and disgusted grimaces and hateful glares and everything and anyone and everyone is laughing.

Laughing laughing laughing laughing_laughing_laughing.

_...ha, I think she likes it..._

_HA!_

"Shut _up!" _

Edward's eyes are like ice. Golden ice, like diamonds. No, diamonds are something beautiful. Nothing like that is beautiful. Staring at something disgusting, even the most beautiful things look hideous. Hating, glaring.

She says, "What did they do to you, Bella?"

I say, "_Shut up!"_

_Ha._

_Ha._

_HA!_

She says, "Tell me, Bella. _Tell me."_

My walls are white, yellow, black, brown. Works of art, the Mona Lisa, the Girl in Yellow, the Lovers, hissing and spatting like snakes. Becoming slashed and ruined. Jacob...ruined....Charlie ruined...Renee ruined...Alice Emmett Jasper Seth ruined ruined ruined ruined.

"Did. They. Rape. You."

_Shut up!_

Edward...ruined.

Everything

ruined.

"I'm...gonna..._" _

I stumble from the room and onto the tiled floor in the bathroom, bile rising to my throat with dry gags, tears burning my cheeks like acid.

Day turns to night outside the window, and the air is cold.

* * *

***Updated Author's Note May 21st 2009**_* _Woo! I found the file!


	22. i've seen this room

_21st century breakdown  
I once was lost but never was found  
I think I'm losing what's left of my mind  
to the 20th century deadline  
_-Green Day

Charlie tapped the leather skin of the wallet as he sat at his desk and waited for a deputy or officer or somebody to call for him, send him somewhere, to a domestic disturbance of _something. _Something to make him stop _thinking_.

"Sonofa_bitch," _he muttered to himself, slamming the driver's license back on the desk, his daughter's awkward, badly lit smile glaring up at him, like it was all _his _fault.

Maybe it was. He just didn't know.

"Swan," said Renalds, an old officer who never quite reached the spot of _captain. _His white moustache looked like a fat worm hanging limply over his swollen, chapped lips. His eyes were soft, sympathetic.

"Hm?" Charlie mumbled, rubbing his eyes and glancing at the holding cells.

"Kid's been sent downtown," he said. "For questioning. Thought you should know."

Charlie swallowed, subtlety but hard, his throat suddenly very very dry.

"Look," said Renalds, catching onto his discomfort. "The wallet don't mean nothing. He could've just found it. Could've just found it, lying on the street. Don't mean nothing."

He was from Brooklyn.

Charlie didn't believe _anybody _from Brooklyn.

For some reason.

"Yeah," said Charlie. "Maybe."

xXxXxXx

"Rosalie," Alice said quietly, standing outside the bathroom door and listening with a grimace as the sounds of retching ricochet off the door, "what did you _do _to her?"

Rosalie leaned against the door frame of Bella's bedroom, letting her hair cover her pale, unmade face and closing her eyes.

"Nothing," she said, "We just had a word. I did absolutely nothing."

Jacob scowled, the expression looking twisted on his soft face. "That's not what I'm hearing."

Roslie sighed warily. "Please, don't give yourself a migraine, dog."

_"Rosalie," _Alice warned steadily, placing a hand against her forehead and sighing harder, leaning back against the wall.

"Bella," Jacob said, tapping at the door with the back of his hand. "Bella, are you--"

_"Get out!"_

It was such a harsh shriek that Jacob went reeling back as though from a physical blow. Alice winced like a dog would from a high pitched whistle.

Rosalie felt a swell of annoyance rise in her chest.

So _dramatic._

Alice glared at Rosalie, as though reading her thoughts (a somewhat ironic statement, considering) and gingerly pressed herself against the door. "Bella, we--"

_"Get the hell out!" _she hissed, and the sound of something soft being chucked at the other side vibrated through the walls.

Jacob looked like he'd been slapped. "But--"

"Let her be," Rosalie sighed. "Edward will be back soon. Leave her."

xXxXx

_Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading  
So sick and tired of all the needless beating  
But baby when they knock you  
Down and out  
It's where you oughta stay_

-"I Don't Love You," My Chemical Romance_  
_

Stupid, stupid Rosalie.

Stupidstupid_stupid._

She'll go running to Edward. Edward. Edward.

Damnit damnit _damnit._

My stomach lurched like a piece of paper caught in the wind, and I bent over the toilet. Nothing left in my stomach. Dry gags. Nothing left at all.

Oh God oh God.

_...Edward..._

His face--oh, his face. The looks it would make. Disgust, anger, hatred. All three?

I tortured myself by imagining it. Imagining the looks he'd given to James and Jacob and Victoria and _all of them, _all aimed at me. I deserve it, deserve it deserve it.

My phone rings, all the way through the door and into the hall and next to my bed. All the way, so far away, too far. Too, too far.

I'm not thinking right, not thinking straight.

I should sleep.

Can't sleep.

Not here.

Not anywhere.

What am I thinking?

My breath comes in short gasp as I work my way to the sink, held barely at the heels of my foot by the white porcelain nailed to the wall. The mirror stares at me, with my eyes and my puffed up, faded yellow face and my sore arm and everything just _stares._

Like the Mona Lisa. Following me.

_...look at her scream..._

_ha..._

_...I think she likes it, John..._

"Edward," I mutter, just for the sound of his name on my lips. Just because.

Because.

Because I can't do this.

Never could do this.

I can't.

Because I'm wasting everyone's time.

Their energy.

Their love.

Their hate.

They don't deserve it.

They don't need it.

I could, I should, I will.

_...ha, holder still, I ain't done yet..._

_..ha...HA..._

_HAHAHA_

_...ha_

_Stop...laughing..._

God oh God oh God

_ha_

_frikken_

_ha_

I open the mirror cabinet with shaking hands and tears burning down my cheeks like acid. Burningburningburning.

_Stop laughing!_

The pills are there, just there, staring, glaring, staring, glaring. Taunting. Mocking.

And, now I know I'm crazy. Because they're laughing too.

I take them, I open them, I twist off the cap.

Ten in my hand.

One down my throat.

Swallow.

Two.

Swallow.

_You have a headache, _I tell myself. _These are for your headache._

Three.

Swallow.

Edward...I love him.

I think.

Yes, I do.

Just not like before.

Now I love him because I'm afraid he doesn't anymore.

Not because he loves me, because he doesn't.

Because he hates me, I know.

They all hate me.

Their whole family.

JacobAliceRosalieEdwardEdward_Edward._

He loved me--lov_ed--_not love. He hates me now.

Yes, he hates me.

He would want this.

Four, five, six.

Swallow.

For Edward.

**A/N Okay, sorry if this is rushed. I spent this entire fic with no aim and no ending in mind whatesover, and now, at three in the morning, it came to me. Hazah.**

**We have a plot, folks.**


	23. and i've walked this floor

_So here I am again  
In the middle of the end  
And the choice I wish I'd made  
I always make too late_

-"My World," Sick Puppies

Charlie pulled into his driveway and stepped...out...slowly.

At the station, he'd seen The Kid being hauled off down town, where the harder, more seasoned cops awaited a nice night of intense questioning and the handcuffs were well used.

Then, he'd gotten some coffee and started home.

Now he was here, moving very...slowly...and fumbling with his car keys and the house keys and the fire case keys and _all the damn keys._

"Shit," he muttered as he jammed the patrol car keys into the doorknob.

A yellow folder was wedged in between the screen and the door, a post-it taped loosely on the front: _Homework. Feel better!-Jess_

Oh, Charlie thought. Oh, yeah.

He took it and jammed a key into the doorknob.

Everything seemed very forced to Charlie, every blow of the wind and every sway of the trees, seemed very token. As though everything knew what to do and how to do it, but just didn't _feel _like it. Waiting for the moment when Charlie was locked safely in his home to freeze. Freeze quickly and steadily.

_Freeze._

He remembered that phrase. Typical cop catchphrase. Charlie remember standing in front of his mirror when he was eleven with a squirt gun and a plastic badge, screaming freeze freeze freeze at an invisible foe, predator.

_freezefreezefreeze_

He finally got the door open and stepped inside.

The house smelled like _death._ If anything could smell as such.

A horrible, ghastly, dry smell that clung to the walls like bees to a honeycomb.

Charlie felt a gag rise to his throat.

"Bella," he said quietly, to make sure his voice still worked. "Bella, honey?"

No answer.

He was speaking too quietly. Too quietly, she wouldn't hear him.

That's it.

"Bella?" he said, loudly, facing the stairs and putting a foot on the first step. "Bella, are you okay?"

xXxXx

--she's okay, Alice," Edward insisted to his cell phone. "She's acting like..._I don't even know. _Somethings wrong."

"It was probably just Rosalie," Alice reasoned. "You know how she is."

Edward _did _know how she is.

Rosalie made sure _everyone _knew how she was.

Ever since the day they'd met, Rosalie had made sure Edward--and anyone who was within earshot--knew how miserable she was, how much she _hated _this life, hated it _so much. _Constantly, constantly going on and on and ever on about the children she would never have and the grey hairs she would never grow and the wrinkles she would never get. Her eyes were always hard, always jaded and cynical. Always making sure everyone relished in her misery, always sunk into it like quicksand, until their wasn't room left to breath, wasn't anything _to _breathe except her and her bitter retorts. Edward, however, always let it glide over his head, ignoring her like he would a rather talkative child.

He would _not, _however, let her do this today. To her. Not to Bella.

Damnit.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath on the other end. Alice gasped.

"What?" Edward hissed into the phone. _"What?"_

The sound of tires squealing and rubber on concrete rang through the phone in static-filled waves. Edward heard a swift curse of _"Sonuvabitch."_

He gripped the phone tighter, so tight it creaked under his palm. "Alice?"

Alice said, "Bella."

xXxXx

_She was slumped over on the toilet, the empty bottle rolling beside her feet and she was so, so tired._

The gasp.

"What?" said Edward. _"What?"_

Alice gripped the steering wheel tightly between her fingers as faces and colors and images flashed around her like hundreds of movie screens all at once. The car swerved every which way, nearly flying off the robe. An earsplitting screech followed.

The phone fell from her hand and...

_...slumped over, hands gripping the sink even as she sank down down down to the floor. The bottle toppled from her hands and rolled onto the floor, the two pills remaining clacking against the tiles. She held on until her joints failed her and she fell limp beside the toilet, her breath slowing, slowing, slowing..._

...and onto the dashboard as she wrestled with herself not to rip the wheel from the car. She cursed under her breath. _"Sonuvabitch."_

"Alice?"

"Bella," Alice hissed. _Bella, Bella, oh God._

xXxXx

It's all a dream.

I think.

A haze of faces and voice and _God the laughter _and nothing is clear except the sick, broken feeling tearing through my stomach. Like a knife, sharp and thick and t_earing and pushing and shredding._

It's all a dream.

xXxXx

"Bella." Charlie rapped on the door only to realize it was open. "Bella, honey?"

No one was there.

The sheets were strewn across the floor.

The silence was like a person itself, thick and so terribly _there._

Charlie dropped the folder onto the computer table and trudged to the bathroom.

It was locked. "Bella?"

The silence was _deafening. _

"Bella," he said again, louder. "Bella, I know your in there."

Was this what the silent treatment was like?

Even when she was younger, Bella had never been one to hold grudges, or to really get upset at all. You said her name, she answered. You asked her to do something, she did it. Question, full explanation.

This was a bit late to start being a _teenager._

And he thought of the kid down town, no older then his daughter, being accused of _horrible horrible _things. With Bella's wallet. And he thought of this, and he wanted to pretend he didn't know why.

He pounded his fist on the door, "Bella, don't be like this."

Nothing.

Vague panic swelled in his chest. "Bella, open this door."

Nothing nothing nothing.

He brought his hand to the door knob, shook it and shook it. "Bella--_Bella, damnit!"_

It was a relitively weak door. Charlie jammed his shoulder into it again and again and again until splinters flew from the edges. Again and again.

Finally, the door shuddered open, sending Charlie off-balance.

His daughter was strewn across the floor. A bottle of pills lay at her side.

Empty.

"Oh, god."

* * *

**Author's Note: 1) I REALLY wanna finish this and 2) I'm getting into Supernatural lately, and those guys can **_**review. **_**A five chapter story with three hundred reviews. I feel like a failure.**

***hint***

**Oh, and...**

**CLIFFHANGER!**


	24. i used to live alone before i knew ya

**Author's Note: **Can I say this without getting spammed?

I hate this fic.

Really, it's meant as no offense to those of you who are enjoying it, think it's good, think it's awesome, have been reviewing, etc. It's just that I took a few minutes yesterday to re-read it and, _wow. _They should not let twelve year olds write anything. Ever.

I like to think I got better eventually, but I probably haven't. I know some of you may review telling me _ZOMG don't be so hard on yourself it's soooo good! _but, really, nothing will change my mind on the matter. I appreciate all of your kind words and such but, honestly, I just want to finish this and get it done with so I can work on something a little better, less angsty, something I'm sure you will all enjoy reading more then this.

Again, thanks to everyone for sticking with it during the spontanious updates, continuous name change and general bashing of my own self-esteem. I'm sure it's been tough on you who have been waiting for updates, and I assure you the end is coming. I hope it's a more suitable ending then the ACTUAL ending to the Twilight series (Renesmee? Come on now.), but, again, I can't decide that for myself.

So, here we are.

Hallelujah

_**How many times can  
I break til I shatter?**_

_**-OAR**_

_**You found me, you found me  
Lyin' on the floor  
Surrounded, surrounded  
Why'd you have to wait?  
Where were you? Where were you?  
Just a little late  
You found me, you found me**_

_**-The Fray  
**_

Charlie could not decide whether to be worried or furious.

Because his daughter's head lulled limply against the passenger's side window, the blaring of his cruiser making her pale face glow red and blue. Forks sped past them in a blur, and cars swerved out of the way as he flew down the streets. Night fell quickly.

And his daughter, the small, unreasonable little voice in his head hissed, did this to herself. She _did this _to herself, to him. On purpose.

And, damnit, that was _not _how she'd been raised.

Her eyes didn't flutter or twitch or open, just stayed glued at the lids like a statue. He kept whispering to deaf ears, "Come on, Bells. Don't do this..."

When they got to the hospital, there was very little time between the moment the car stopped and the moment Charlie walked through the entrance with Bella sagging in his arms before they were swarmed by paramedics and nurses alike. Questions flew at him from every direction, and all he could think was _she did this to herself...she did this on purpose..._

Finally, the doctors gave up on him and slammed her on a gurney, leading her away away away.

Did she do this because of _me?_

It's a horrifying thought.

XxXxX

The hospital seems empty when Alice Cullen runs inside.

A scattered few sit unperturbed in green plastic chairs, flipping through magazines and playing with their hands. A television hangs on the wall, screening a static filled football game.

She went to the nurses' station, barely keeping at a human speed. "Excuse me?"

A women with bright red hair looked up from a clipboard. She seemed mildly taken aback by Alice, and her eyes flashed quickly. "Are...You must be here for Doctor Cullen."

Alice did her best not to shriek at the old women as she lazily shuffled through a pile of documents, finally pressing an intercom button and pressing her lips to a small microphone. "Dr. Cullen, your needed at the nurses' station, Dr. Cullen."

XxXxX

Carlisle Cullen began his shift expecting nothing.

As far as nothing can go in a hospital, that is.

He pulled out his metallic clipboard and walked inside a patent's room, a man recovering from a kidney transplant. His vitals were fine, he was wide awake, playing with his children as they ran around the side of his bed, asking when he can be discharged. Carlisle smiled, answered all his questions, asked him how he was doing, how he felt, told him he had lovely children, ignored the poor man's wife as she gawked at him.

When Edward came into the room, however, all discussion halted, and the children froze in their tracks.

"Carlisle," he growled, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

Whether to save face or keep his son reasonably calm, he wasn't sure, but he turned towards the man and his family. "Excuse me."

Once in the hallway, Edward's grip fell on Carlisle's arm like an iron vice that refused to release itself. "Something happened to Bella."

Carlisle stopped, and blinked at Edward's fierce, almost protective glare.

"Bella?" he said quietly. "What? When?"

Edward's teeth clenched tightly. "I don't _know. _I was on the phone with Alice...she...Carlisle, her front door was _wide open. _Charlie was gone, no one was _there." _He breathed loudly, on the verge of hysterics. "I don't know where she is. I thought...maybe...she'd be _here..."_

Carlisle placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. He knew Edward, he knew how he felt about Bella, he knew the absolute _agony _he goes through whenever they're apart.

He knew, so he said, "I'll check the ER." He made his voice even, temperate, keeping all hints of worry from his tone. "Call Alice again," he added, "maybe it was a misunder---"

Edward perked up, looked behind his shoulder, his nose perking like a wolf sniffing his prey. His eyes went wide. Then, he left.

xXxXx

Edward heard the voices, so loud, so loud, so loud, none familiar except for the one, that _one damn voice._

_...Bella...oh, God, Bella..._

_...she did this because of _me_..._

_...because I couldn't help her..._

_because--_

_she---_

_pills---_

_Bella---_

_dead---_

_killed_

_killed _

_killed_

_herself_

He found Charlie in the waiting room.

He looked up with wet, sunken eyes. They did not change at the sight of Edward or at anything else. Eyes beyond caring, worried to the point where they couldn't be worried anymore. The type of eyes one would have seeing their only child--

_"Where is she?" _Edward hissed, startling the others waiting in chairs across the room.

Charlie nodded, nodded like there was something to nod at, looking at his boots and wiping impatiently at his nose, sniffing. "They took her." He pointed down the hall. "They took her that way."

Edward bolted down the hallways, scarcely avoiding every doctor, intern and nurse who were unfortunate enough to cross him. He heard a women yelp as his shoulder bumped into her arm.

He listened intently to their thoughts as he ran.

_...gunshot wound through the chest..._

_....minor sprain, wrap gauze..._

_...food poisoning..._

_...appendix burst..._

_...head trauma..._

_...seventeen, female..._

_...possible suicide..._

He slammed to a halt outside a small section, sanctioned off by a light blue curtain, surrounding the doctors but on one side.

They all bent over something, hands moving vigorously to and from a small medal table. "We need a stomach pump," one said among the furious ordering and mumbling.

"Call anesthia, bring her up to surgery." A doctor with a long nose and dark brown hair stood straight, motioning at a nurse.

As he stomped away, he saw a face.

Carlisle came up behind him and pulled him back slightly with his hand on Edward's shoulder. "Edward..."

God, Jesus, _fuck._

"Bella..." he said quietly, frozen in his place. Her head fell back as they dragged her away. "Bella! _Bella!"_

xXxXx

"What do you mean _attempted suicide?"_

Carlisle had, several hours later, pulled some strings and gotten himself assigned to Bella's room as she slept in recovery.

Now he stood in front of Edward as he stood unmoving in front of him, several feet from a silent Charlie.

"We found almost an entire bottle of aspirin in her stomach, Edward," Carlisle said softly. "That's not an accident."

Edward inwardly shuttered, shaking his head and clenching his teeth. "She wouldn't _kill herself," _he said. "She wouldn't...she's not _like _that, Carlisle."

Carlisle looked at him mournfully, apologetically, bowing his head and looking to Charlie. "I'll need you to sign a few things, Charlie."

He stood up and took the clipboard from Carlisle's hand. "I don't believe this," he muttered, his voice cracking. "I don't."

As he walked off, towards the other end of the room and blindly skimming the insurance forms, Carlisle turned to Edward and said, "You can talk to her when she wakes up." Suddenly, for the first time in a hundred years, Edward thought Carlisle looked old. But maybe that was only the light. "I'm sorry, Edward."

And Edward knew that he _was _sorry. He just didn't want him to be.

He didn't want pity. Especially for _him._

And the only thing he could think of is Bella and _why why why._

TBR


	25. i've seen your flag on the marble arch

Heeelllllooooo readers!

I know, you all want to kill me for the lack of update-ness, but this is urgent!

If you will direct your attentions to my profile, where you will notice a fic titles FANFICTION STREETS.

It is both a drabble and an open invitation to YOU, the reader, with one simple question in mind.

_What if all your favorite characters lived on the same streets?_

Don't let the summary nor the Twilight category fool you--it's for all fandoms.

So--GO!

p.s. again, sorry this is not an update.


	26. and love is not a victory march

**Author's Note: I just got an anonymous review that gave me many lulz:**

_YOU ASS! BELLA WHOULD NOT KILL HERSELF! SHE IS NOT SELFISH ENOUGH TO DO IT!  
YOU ASS!!  
_

----HANNAH

**Now, I do not know why some fans get so, um, what's the word...**_**passionate **_**about Twilight and the fanfiction written for it, but now I really kind of understand that whole, "don't like don't read" concept. If it bothers you so much, HANNAH, then just click that little X button on the top corner and **_**avert your virgin eyes. **_**And I'm sorry if you think every person who kills themselves are **_**selfish, **_**but not everyone feels that way. Yeah.**

**And, if **_**Eclipse **_**showed us anything, Bella **_**does **_**have some pretty selfish tendencies. Not saying she's a selfish **_**person, **_**but everyone can be selfish **_**at times. **_

**Also...sorry if you think I'm...'AN ASS'...for writing a fanFICTION, which has nothing to do with the canon plot and really is not NECESSARY for you to read. Now, while you could be insulting some of the many ridiculous AU's out there (which, trust me, are **_**more**_** ridiculous then this here story) you picked **_**mine **_**to go for the 'unlikely' factor. Yeah, it's unlikely, but so is Edward leaving and Bella becoming an Emo/Goth/drug addict/delinquate/etc, but I've still read some good ones with those themes.**

**Now I'm wondering why I'm spending so much time with this reply...maybe because I'm still giggling...maybe cause I suddenly have a problem with someone I don't know calling me an ass for something that very well **_**could **_**happen...maybe I'm mad cause I have a friend who tried to kill herself and don't appreciate anyone calling her 'selfish'...I don't know...but this is both making me laugh and pissing me off to no end, so, HANNAH, why don't you go off and read your **_**Breaking Dawn **_**book for the sixth time tonight and stop bothering people with your CAPS LOCK and explanation! points!**

**Not to say I don't appreciate all reviews and all that...including the negative ones...but I'm sure you'll all agree this is just a bit...**_**unnecessary.**_

_I find it kind of funny_

_I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying_

_Are the best I've ever had_

---"Mad World," Tears for Fears

I'm standing there...in the clearing...and the sun is out. The sky is the lightest blue I've ever seen, almost white, but the sun is still bright, bright yellow. The air feels soft against my skin as the wind blows lightly.

_Edward?_

I hear my voice echo...echo...on what?

Did I even say anything?

Suddenly, I feel the weight on my chest again...like a building is sitting there...crushing me.

_But there's Edward._

And for once, he's not glaring.

He stands on the other side, with the sun shining on him, with his skin glittering like hundreds of thousands of diamonds. He's smiling, and I think..._God, he is an angel._

"Bella," he says. His voice sounds like a song, effortlessly fighting the silence in the clearing. "Bella, wake up."

_No. _"Edward?"

He looks at me sadly, like he _has _to drag me away from him, but with the smile unrelentingly firm against his face.

"Wake up," he says quietly. He steps foreword...no, his feet hardly moved. "Wake up."

_"No," _I say, because _I don't want to._

"Bella..."

"Bella."

"No," I say.

_"Bella"_

And the beeping cuts through the silence, the sound of his voice, bringing back the _terrible headache _and the constant throbbing of my hand and the thoughts and voices and noises.

I don't know wha I start to think...I think about what _actually _happened...I can't...so.

I fell?

But I look up feeling ashamed anyway.

I expect to see Charlie, or Edward, Alice even. Someone who I think would...I don't know..._care._

You know how, when you lie to yourself, you can think two things at once but only _really _think of one? Like if I start to tell myself _my name is Jessica_ or something...I'll be telling myself that..._my name is Jessica..._but, at the same time, I'll be thinking...not anything in particular...just a negative. Just a wordless thought reminding my psyche that, no, my name is _not _Jessica.

Or something.

But that's what I'm thinking.

I'm thinking _I fell I fell I fell I fell_

But underlying it, like the hints of old pencil marks the eraser couldn't get to, is _no no no no no_

_no I fell no I fell_

And Rosalie is there.

Here.

Looking _mad._

"Bella, _wake up." _I'm not sure whether she meant to sound so harsh.

I open my eyes...all the way...and she looks at me.

When I open my mouth to talk...all that comes out is a croak. An intelligible onslaught of vowels, gargled at the back of my neck. My mouth is on fire, someone poured lava down my throat, acid, oil and flames...

The only noise I make is as intelligable as a spoon thrashing against a metal pot.

"They had to pump your stomach," Rosalie says curtly, like she were reciting it from a script. She's not moving, just standing at the front of the bed, close enough so I can see her, far enough to make it clear she's not here for sentimental reasons.

But the one half of my brain is saying _why would they pump my stomach?_

--and the other half is saying _I know why I know why I _know _why._

"Do you know what your doing to him?" she asks mildly, like _how's the weather? _

I don't answer, partly because I physically _can't, _partly because I'm afraid what will happen if I do. Is Rosalie really the type to kill? I mean, of course she's _killed. _She told me herself. But...would she kill _me? _Would anybody let her?

Would_ I _let her?

"I'm not going to hurt you," she says, giving me a look. "_I _won't do that to Edward."

I open my mouth, struggling with my burning throat to create something understandable. "If...he...knew..."

She turned sharply, her head snapping towards me so quickly I felt the wind hit my face at the friction. "If he knew _what, _Bella?"

I don't say anything.

For a moment, just a moment, I think she looks genuinely hurt. "Do you really think that's _who he is? _Do you know him so _little _that he'd..._what?" _She seethes, breathing through her teeth and shaking her head. "What do you think he would _do, _Bella?"

I think of his face, hateful, spiteful, twisted with anger and disappointment and _disgust. _I'm sure there are worst things. Worst things that could happen, worst things that he could do, but I really can't think of any of them.

All I can do is look at her helplessly, silently pleading with her. _Leave. Just leave. _"Go," I croak, wincing as the air passes my throat. "Go."

Her eyes soften slightly, enough for her to look less threatening. "I want to help you, Bella," she says, her voice twinged with sadness I've only seen in her once. The type of sadness that happens when you've already given up on something, already accepted that there's nothing you can do. A lost, firm kind of sadness. "I really do."

I can only see the irony in her words, only see the disgust on Edward's face, only see everything being destroyed.

I look away and don't move until I hear a long sigh and the door clicking shut.

_xXxXx_

Dave bounced impatiently in the small, barely lit room. The shadows bounced off the walls from the pale fluorescent light bulb. Were they raising the temperature in here?

Shit.

He had been in here for hours--maybe even days. I mean, it wasn't like he was even _doing _anything to the girl. Just messing around. She was the one who through a fit about it, screaming her face off until some bastard in the shop across the street called the cops. Now she's saying he tried to _rape _her?

Jesus, she's not even his _type._

And then, when they took the girls statement, without even _looking _at him, they come back and take...

...that girls wallet was in his pocket.

The door, the same color as the rest of the walls, so much so that Dave forgot it was there until it opened.

His father had bailed him out from the holding cell, and he had done the walk of shame back to the car knowing full well he'd be back; they had the other girls wallet. It was over.

Anyway, the door opened. A man, clean shaven and red headed, dents in his face becoming caverns as the pale light hit him, walked in. He had a manila envelope in his hands.

He sat down, slowly, into the chair, turning it around so his elbows were crossed on the front as he dropped the envelope onto the table.

"Isabella Swan," he said, opening the envelope to reveal a picture, "was just admitted into the hospital for...a_ttempted _suicide."

The way he said _attempted_ made itself very clear. _Attempted _as in _still alive, _so don't get your hopes up.

The only reason he knew what the cop was talking about was because he knew the picture. School taken, an awkward smile, long brown hair and just as brown eyes.

"Okay?" he said, doing his best to keep his expression blank.

The cop slid a tongue over his teeth, like he was picking a piece of chicken from them. "You wouldn't have any idea why, would you?"

Dave shook his head. "Never met 'er."

The cop shook his head. "Dave," he said, "you better hope she never met you, neither."

**a/n and yet another chapter where absolutely nothing happens.**

**guys, there's only TWO LEFT! YES!**

**i've also been working on an AU Twilight fic, and a series of twisted and dark oneshots (called 'Tales of Macabre, check it out please). So I hope all of you will read that...because chances are I'll update those on a semi-regular basis :)**


	27. its a cold and its a broken hallelujah

**Author Note: I know I said I'd never finish this. But I'm getting kind of bored with blogging and thought that since this is my most popular story I kind of owe it a decent end. This will be short.**

_If they ever knew you at all_

_Then why are you still crying_

_My love, I'm slowly dying_

_If we really knew each other _

_Then how are still together_

_We stick forever_

---Laura Marling, "Dreaming"

Fix me fix my head fix me please, I don't wanna be dead

---Black Flag, "Fix Me"

its a cold and its a broken** hallelujah**

Charlie came in every so often, just sat there at the side of the bed and looked straight ahead. He never said anything. Didn't need to. I knew what he was thinking.

He kept asking if I wanted to see Edward. Carlisle, too. Alice, when she forced her way into the room. Even Renee, when she had only met him once. Should I let him in, Bella? He's been in the waiting room for days.

"No," I said, because I couldn't, I wouldn't, "no."

Charlie asked me, "Was it because of him? Did he…do anything?"

I told him no, Edward didn't do anything. He never did anything. He was perfect.

Perfect.

--

"Bella," Carlisle said to me, checking my IV and writing on his clipboard, "we're going to send in a counselor for you. It will be completely confidential."

"I don't need a counselor," I said, because I didn't. I didn't need to talk to anybody, let alone some stranger with a name tag. I didn't need it.

--

Faces and names blurred together, those next days.

Alice would come in, beat around the bush and play with my hair and tell me about something she saw on the news or about a new dress she got. You'd think after years of never ending activity she would develop some more complex conversational patterns.

Mike stopped in, Tyler and Lauren and Jessica and Angela. All of them fidgeted, _fidgeted_. Like they wished they were somewhere else. I made sure they left quickly.

Esme brought me cookies. Emmett brought me a _Playgirl_. Jasper sat behind Alice, looking out the window. Jacob would stand beside me, staring with more intensity then a kid his age should have. He would try to engage me in conversation, asking what everyone else was asking--why, god, _why_?--but I would just shake my head and bury my face in my pillow and thank him, and apologize, and thank him again. I don't know what I was thanking him for, or apologizing for, or _why_? I didn't know.

Every visit ended the same:

Edward wants to see you.

_No._

--

He came in the night before I was released.

I was lying down, looking, and there he was.

His face practically glowed beside the unlit beige walls, his hair gently rippling at the cool air blowing through the open window. He looks at me, hurt, betrayed, frightened. And sad, so sad.

"Hi," I said, because what else could I say?

Edward leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, gaze unwavering. Eyes black.

"Have you hunted?" I ask.

He didn't say a word.

We stayed where we were, in a not-quite-comfortable silence that seemed to stretch as long as the moon stayed in the sky. I fingered my hospital ID, my IV, my hair. Waiting, like when we first met. Waiting.

Suddenly, he was next to me, kneeling, his head ducked in his hands and his breath as erratic as I'd ever seen it.

"Please," he croaked. "Tell me what I did. Tell me what I can do. Please…just tell me."

I jumped a little and nearly hit my head on one of the several monitors hanging behind my bed. I'd never heard him cry, and I don't think I ever would. He wasn't, not really. Just breathing, so quickly and harshly I thought he'd die. I thought _I'd_ die, just hearing it. Like it was some unholy keening of a hell hound. Like people weren't meant to listen.

My voice cracked and I held my hands tightly to my lap. "You didn't do anything, Edward," I said quietly. "This…this isn't your fault."

"Yes it is," he said. "God, Bella--I should have been there. I should have helped you, I should have…damnit, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

After that, I was crying.

Crying because he was crying, because he knew and he blamed himself, because of Charlie, and Renee (in the cafeteria getting a coffee), crying because of Jacob, and because of me. Because I can't do this, I can't talk I can't talk, I can't speak. And that's all that he wants from me, for me to speak and tell him _why why why? _and I just can't.

I cry.

His scent engulfed me, his arms around me, his ice cold skin against my feverish head. And suddenly I _was_ talking, speaking, babbling. I'm sorry, I sob. I'm so, so sorry, I'm sorry sorry _sorry_.

He's saying something, too, something like, "Its not your fault". Something like that.

The best part is I believe him.

And that just takes care of itself, doesn't it?

**end**


End file.
